MAN 
 WHO 
 
 REAPS 
 
 KATHARINE 
 JONES

 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS
 
 THE 
 
 MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 A STORY 
 
 By 
 KATHARINE JONES 
 
 New York 
 Desmond FitzGerald, Inc.
 
 Copyright, 1912 
 
 By DESMOND FITZGERALD, INC. 
 All Bights Reserved
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. THE STRANGER 
 
 II. THE FACE OF STONB 
 
 III. THE SPELL .... 
 
 IV. BETWEEN Two WORLDS . 
 
 V. THE DANGER IN THE CASTLE . 
 
 VI. THE ITALIAN WING . 
 
 VII. THE BURDEN 
 
 VIII. A VICARIOUS PENANCE . 
 
 IX. A TWILIGHT VISION 
 
 X. RAISING THE UNSEEN 
 
 XL A FRESH TRAIL 
 
 XII. THE BIRTHDAY 
 
 XIII. A VOICE FROM THE MlDDLE AGES 
 
 XIV. A TALE OF FATE . 
 
 XV. THIRTY-FIVE! .... 
 
 XVI. THE PICTURE GALLERY . 
 
 XVII. THE SECOND PERSON 
 
 XVIII. A BROKEN SILENCE . 
 
 XIX. MARIOLA ; 
 
 XX. A KEY 
 
 XXI. " I MUST GIVE GIVE ! " . 
 
 XXII. THE DOOM OF ROXMOOR . 
 
 2136386
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 
 159 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE MESSAGE 
 
 . 165 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE SURRENDER . 
 
 . 174 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE ANSWER 
 
 . 181 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 STRIKING THE TRAIL 
 
 . 189 
 
 xxvin. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE LIGHT 
 
 . 201 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE CORE OF THE SECRET . 
 
 . 212 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE ONLY WAT . 
 
 . 222 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 THE FINAL PLUNGE 
 
 . 227 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 . 234 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 THE MAN WHO Sows . 
 
 . 240 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 THE RISEN SPIRIT 
 
 . 246 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 THE LORD AVELING 
 
 . 253 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 UNVEILED .... 
 
 . 257
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS
 
 THE STRANGER 
 
 A YOUNG man leaned upon the railing of an 
 incoming Atlantic steamer, watching with keen 
 relish the picturesque confusion of an English 
 harbor. He had a tall, well-knit frame, and the 
 color of much living in the open air. He nodded 
 a careless greeting to a man, somewhat older, who 
 strolled up, and took a place beside him. 
 
 " Well, Henshaw, the land looks good, doesn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes, I hate these beastly voyages," growled 
 the older man. " I envy you, Kent, seeing all this 
 for the first time." 
 
 The young man laughed good-humoredly, and 
 continued to watch the slow discharge of pas- 
 sengers. 
 
 " It's a double stroke of luck to see it with Ned 
 Aveling," he remarked. 
 
 As the name left Kent's lips, Henshaw threw a 
 piercing glance at him. But Kent did not seem 
 to notice; his eyes were on the shifting crowd. 
 Henshaw drew nearer, and leaned upon the railing.
 
 2 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " So you are visiting Ned Aveling. Have you 
 seen him, lately ? " 
 
 A shade of annoyance crossed Kent's face, as 
 he replied shortly, " Not since he left America." 
 
 " Hm. That was some months ago." 
 
 " Yes six months." 
 
 Henshaw's face curiously softened, and, after a 
 keen survey of the younger man, he turned his gaze 
 to the crowd gathered upon the dock. Something 
 there caught his attention. His heavy features 
 sharpened as he pushed slightly forward, for a 
 moment's eager inspection. " I have heard that 
 Aveling is quite changed," he said, with a quick, 
 in-drawn breath, his eyes fixed intently upon some 
 object in the throng. 
 
 Kent made an impatient movement. " Non- 
 sense ! " he exclaimed. " Ned Aveling won't lose 
 his balance because a chateau and fortune chance 
 to cross his path." 
 
 Henshaw shifted his position. " Still, it would 
 not be unreasonable to look for some difference 
 in the man, after that amazing luck of his. Avel- 
 ing's mad-cap pranks would be a little out of 
 order in an English manor-house," he said ab- 
 sently, as if mentally filling a gap in his thoughts. 
 
 A spark of anger shot from Kent's eye. " Now 
 see here, Henshaw, you know I've got a temper, 
 and it won't stand more than a reasonable strain. 
 Aveling is an old friend of mine. I know him like
 
 THE STRANGER 3 
 
 a book, and all this talk about his being changed 
 is flat nonsense. A man mil grow up in time, and 
 why the gossips fall upon him because he doesn't 
 jig through history wearing the cap and bells, 
 puzzles the understanding of your ordinary citizen 
 like me." 
 
 Henshaw let the heated words pass, and waited 
 a moment before replying. 
 
 " I never knew Aveling well in America," he 
 went on, in a quiet tone. " But when I met him 
 over here it was hard to believe the tales I have 
 heard of his younger days. Was he as wild as 
 the stories make him?" 
 
 The smothered wrath faded from Kent's face. 
 
 " Oh, Aveling had the most infectious joy in 
 living. His doings are classic on the campus," 
 he said, relaxing in a stream of happy recollec- 
 tions. " He was the inspiration of every graceless 
 prank pulled off in his college days. I think he 
 must have spent a good half of his time racing 
 about with explanations. It was the treat of my 
 life to see him sail in to expound the harmless 
 nature of his antics. He could thaw the stiffest 
 duenna by some marvellous spell he put into his 
 lightest word. No one could resist him. He had 
 the most intoxicating smile, the most fascinating 
 impudence." 
 
 Kent was carried away by the force of his own 
 thoughts, and seemed to see beyond the strange
 
 4, THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 scene before him to another day, full of vital 
 memories. Henshaw was a curious study as he 
 broke across this dreaming mood. He pointed 
 downward to a figure standing near the gang- 
 plank. " Kent, do you know that man ? " he 
 asked in a sharp, incisive tone. 
 
 Kent, fresh from his recollections, stared down 
 for a moment, and then shook his head. " No, 
 never saw him before." 
 
 " Odd looking person," Henshaw ventured, with 
 a quick look at Kent, upon whom the incident 
 made no apparent impression. Nothing more was 
 said, until Henshaw, muttering something about 
 the thinning trail of passengers that left the ship, 
 started off with a hasty good-bye, to Kent's evi- 
 dent surprise. 
 
 " Won't you wait, and meet Aveling? " said 
 Kent. " He'll be here, somewhere." 
 
 " Thank you, no," stammered Henshaw. " I'm 
 in a hurry. I've something rather urgent to see 
 to," and he hastened away. At a little distance, 
 he paused, looked with musing pity at Kent, and 
 then, shaking his head, disappeared below. 
 
 The young man showed some irritation at Hen- 
 shaw's odd manoeuvres, which he pretended not 
 to see, and fell to studying the kaleidoscopic move- 
 ments of the crowd, and finally the figure Henshaw 
 had pointed out. The man stood motionless near 
 the gang-plank, giving close attention to the
 
 THE STRANGER 5 
 
 stream of people going by. Kent's eye returned 
 to him from time to time with a growing sense 
 of uneasiness. There was something disagree- 
 able about him, some hint of death and gloom, and 
 as Kent watched he felt a kind of spell creep 
 over him that drugged his senses. He roused him- 
 self, with some astonishment, scanning the melan- 
 choly stranger more closely. A greater contrast 
 to the merry figure he lately had in mind could 
 scarcely be offered. He was eminently English, 
 but something in the lean figure caused the man 
 upon the deck to grow thoughtful, his mind 
 brought to sharp focus upon the spectacle surging 
 across the docks. The sense of two merging 
 worlds was curiously symbolized by that motion- 
 less figure; he surveyed the crowd with the de- 
 portment of an English gentleman, but his spare 
 form was unmistakably American. 
 
 With a gasp of horror, Kent caught a deeper 
 meaning. For all at once, the valley which the 
 stranger's melancholy spanned lay between the 
 brilliant world of the senses, upon which Kent 
 gazed, and the isolation of some experience not 
 given to the common lot. The man stood as de- 
 tached and unreal as a ghost in a throng of living 
 beings. 
 
 Kent stared on, unable to disentangle his crowd- 
 ing impressions, for the uncanny figure began to 
 lure him. Some one stirred below on the dock,
 
 6 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 and caught his eye. Henshaw was moving away, 
 with a hastily averted face. Kent sprang up, mut- 
 tering a wrathful exclamation, and shook his long, 
 lithe limbs, which ached with a curious cramp. 
 He leaned over the railing to look once more at 
 the sombre stranger^ and again his limbs were 
 caught in a numbing thrall. He wrenched his 
 attention loose, with a curious feeling of alarm, 
 and a belated gratitude to Henshaw as he shook 
 off the mesmeric spell of the silent figure waiting 
 below. 
 
 " Heavenly powers ! " he muttered, " but it will 
 be good to see Ned, after that ghostly sight." 
 
 He began to think it strange he had not seen 
 Aveling, and kept a sharp look-out for the high- 
 held head and dashing figure, which were not easy 
 to overlook, even in a crowd. But he was nowhere 
 to be seen. Kent stopped, when he left the gang- 
 plank, and looked about. Some one touched his 
 shoulder. " Well you're a sight for the gods 
 and all!" 
 
 Kent turned about, and then brought to a halt 
 in stunned amazement. It was Aveling's voice, 
 no doubt, but it issued from the gloomy English- 
 man whom he had seen standing at the ship's 
 side!
 
 CHAPTER H 
 
 THE FACE OF STONE 
 
 THEY gripped hands in silent man-fashion, Kent 
 wincing at the bony clutch. What awful thing 
 had happened Aveling? He was not merely al- 
 tered, he was another man. Kent could not be- 
 lieve his senses, until presently there came a smile 
 about the set mouth which assured him that be- 
 yond question this changed flesh was Ned Aveling. 
 
 " Let's get out of this crowd," Kent heard him 
 say, as, with an abrupt movement, he led the way 
 to where his wife waited, the graceful beauty Kent 
 had seen last in her bridal veil. He thought she 
 looked wan and wistful, and was startled to see 
 something like relief leap out of her great, gray 
 eyes, as their hands met. 
 
 Aveling went off to see about Kent's luggage, 
 leaving him in Mrs. Aveling's company, trying to 
 fight off that odd feeling of melancholy, or de- 
 pression, or whatever it was that had settled about 
 him with the first sight of Aveling's face. There 
 was just a touch of restraint in Mrs. Aveling's 
 manner, something totally at variance with the 
 graceful welcome she had given him, and the easy 
 
 7
 
 8 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 flow of talk that left her lips. He noticed a 
 furtive apprehension in the look she directed at 
 Aveling, on his return, and a disagreeable thought 
 crossed his mind that she might be unhappy. But 
 it seemed impossible. Their courtship had been 
 unusually serene and full of joy. He dismissed 
 the surmise from his mind, but the oddness of it 
 all stung him into a closer observation of Avel- 
 ing's stern pallor, and moody abstraction. Per- 
 haps the change of climate did not agree with him. 
 An impulse to inquire more closely about his 
 health sprang to Kent's lips several times, to be 
 checked by the unaccountable reluctance which 
 seemed to direct Mrs. Aveling's movements, for 
 he noticed that she forebore the slightest contra- 
 diction of Aveling's speech, or the smallest in- 
 terruption of his moods. 
 
 " How soon shall we start, Ned? " she asked, 
 with a discernible tremor in her voice. 
 
 " We are not leaving," he said harshly. " We 
 will spend the night in Liverpool." 
 
 She said nothing more, but her acquiescence 
 contained a hint that she knew of no reason for 
 staying there, and Aveling volunteered no further 
 information. They went immediately to the hotel, 
 where they passed the evening in quiet talk, and 
 retired early. 
 
 Kent was more mystified than he cared to think, 
 and doggedly set himself to accept events without
 
 THE PACE OF STONE 9 
 
 question. But a disconcerting memory kept be- 
 fore his mind the contents of Aveling's last letter, 
 which distinctly said they would go at once to 
 Roxmoor, Aveling's ancestral home, and travel 
 through the country later. And now he had 
 chosen, without any apparent reason, to loiter in 
 smoky Liverpool. What further caprice might 
 direct his movements, Kent could not even imagine ; 
 he was dealing with a person he did not 
 know. 
 
 With a resolute effort of the will, he put it 
 all aside, and in the morning sauntered down to 
 breakfast in his usual, genial humor, listening with 
 impassive calm when Aveling gave out that they 
 would go on to Chester. 
 
 " Shall we stay there over night ? " his wife 
 casually asked. 
 
 " How can I tell ! " he exclaimed irritably. 
 " Kent might enjoy a longer stay. There is no 
 reason to rush violently about. It seems to me 
 you are in a great hurry to get to Roxmoor, 
 Aline." 
 
 For just a moment, her self-control failed, and 
 over her face there rushed a look of horror. Kent 
 watched, every sense alert. Did she dread the 
 splendor of Aveling's ancient home? He got no 
 further light, for she instantly rallied, and quietly 
 replied, " Why, dear, I am in no hurry. I was 
 wondering how to pack my small belongings. I
 
 10 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 am a terrible person, Mr. Kent. I can't pack a 
 pocket-handkerchief without an hour's notice." 
 
 " Oh, Aline needs a caravan to so much as cross 
 the county," remarked her husband, his gloom 
 lifting. He was presently heard to remark, in 
 a mollified tone, that Kent might as well see the 
 sights on the way, which was plausible and pleas- 
 ant, except for the slight hesitation of his manner, 
 and the elaborate explanation for things which 
 did not need to be explained. 
 
 Against his will, the discomfort of some premo- 
 nition began to invade Kent's mind, as they 
 loitered in easy fashion on the way to Roxmoor. 
 The transformation in his old college chum gath- 
 ered startling force, as Aveling grew used to 
 Kent's daily presence, and fell into his usual habits. 
 He was not older, but different; his merry laugh- 
 ing spirits were struck down. Kent's thoughts 
 gathered about the subject with deep misgiving, 
 for he noticed that these moods increased in rigor 
 as they approached Roxmoor, and reluctantly he 
 began to see that whatever had quenched Avel- 
 ing's bright spirits, it had some close relation to 
 his change of fortune. Aveling seemed actually 
 to fear the return to the castle. Kent could only 
 infer that it brought the recurrence of some ex- 
 perience to be dreaded, or perhaps an increase of 
 the habitual gloom which replaced his youthful 
 gayety.
 
 THE FACE OF STONE 11 
 
 A few days' travel brought them to the station 
 where the Roxmoor carriage waited for them. 
 Aveling had become almost harsh as he stood 
 aside to let his wife and Kent pass into the car- 
 riage. Then he followed, and fell into utter 
 silence. 
 
 There was a nipping rawness in the air, which 
 grew sharper as the day waned. As the carriage 
 rolled out through the hedges, Kent began quietly 
 to talk of that peace of life in England, which 
 lays its charm upon the person new to the spell. 
 The symbols of it lay on every side; England's 
 glorious past which spread before them in splendid 
 castles and storied ruins; her wonderful beauty, 
 her vast treasures. Aveling showed a growing 
 irritation as the conversation rippled on. Mrs. 
 Aveling grew nervous; Kent noticed the signs of 
 it that escaped her vigilant self-control, and grad- 
 ually there was borne to his mind the sense of 
 some approaching trial. What it could be he 
 could form no idea, but the bare thought of that 
 waiting ordeal filled him with concern for the two 
 miserable beings who sat cowed and silent. 
 
 Kent summoned into life all his powers of en- 
 tertainment, skimming with light touch the es- 
 trangement of thought which lay like a ban upon 
 moody Aveling, and plunged into a recital of 
 boyhood events, common to both. He did not 
 succeed. His talk fell as unregarded as the rattle
 
 13 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 of the wheels. Mrs. Aveling gave way to some 
 silent terror that blotted out every other part of 
 her consciousness. Kent ceased to talk, and looked 
 away. 
 
 The sun was sinking behind a range of distant 
 hills. In front of them stood an ancient feudal 
 castle, one of those monuments of a splendid 
 history which lay on every side, weaving a spell 
 about Kent's senses. He dropped the anxiety of 
 Aveling's moods, and surrendering to the strange 
 enchantment which lurked among the gray and 
 broken ruins on every hillside, drifted out among 
 his crowding fancies, reconstructing the splendor 
 of the past. His imagination peopled vacant ruins. 
 The sound of mirth and banquet rose in those 
 silent halls. Noble knights, and alluring beauties 
 cast off the unreality of legend, and trod those 
 vaulted chambers in the pride of opulent and 
 splendid life. 
 
 Whirling through this tangle of fact and fancy, 
 Kent's reverie was rudely broken. The carriage 
 turned abruptly under a gateway, a grim struc- 
 ture built heavily of gray stone. Aveling plunged 
 into the silence with his deep voice, dwelling, 
 as if by force of will, upon fact and common- 
 place. 
 
 " See, Kent, how carefully the effect has been 
 developed. The ragged firs in that opening cut 
 the sky like an etching. And that group of cop-
 
 THE FACE OF STONE 13 
 
 per beeches, it gives a glow to the whole land- 
 scape." 
 
 Kent looked out upon a level stretch of culti- 
 vated ground, bearing the fruit of thoughtful cen- 
 turies. The avenue, through which they drove, 
 was bordered by venerable limes, growing into a 
 tangle overhead. They caught an occasional 
 glimpse of a gorgeous sunset through the branches. 
 As they suddenly emerged from the trees, Kent 
 started in his seat. In the double gloom of time 
 and falling night, there rose against the flaming 
 sky, the ancient castle he had seen in the distance, 
 in front of the range of hills. Projected with 
 threatening violence out of that living past where 
 Kent's mind had withdrawn, it seemed, to his en- 
 thralled and dreaming mood, to take on the sem- 
 blance of a human face, stiffened, by some sinister 
 experience, into a dreadful immortality. 
 
 Kent beat against the fantasies that fell upon 
 him. But his eyes, held in some enchantment, 
 seemed over and over to trace those dreadful 
 features, as if he saw a sinister deed envisaged. 
 Horrified by the pressure of thought, he turned 
 away. But he was not the only one the uncanny 
 place disturbed. Mrs. Aveling was looking at her 
 husband like a charmed bird. Kent's eye swiftly 
 followed hers. Aveling was leaning slightly for- 
 ward, a hostile glitter in the veiled regard that 
 rested on the castle. There had come a change
 
 14 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 upon him that was not of color or outline, but 
 as if he had lost that intangible thing we call the 
 self, and on the familiar features was painted the 
 image of a stranger. Kent, in horror, saw gath- 
 ering there the outlines of the colossal Face he had 
 seen in the mass of stone before him. 
 
 A smothered cry caused Aveling to move, and 
 Kent saw that face of stone, terrible stricken! 
 Aveling rose slowly to his feet, and stood poised 
 like an evil power about to close about a helpless 
 victim. Kent glanced around. Every one was 
 motionless, struck into terrified silence. His 
 glance returned to Aveling, who was making 
 stealthy readiness to spring, with what murderous 
 intention his clenched hands gave witness. Kent, 
 with a swift movement, laid a grasp of iron on 
 Aveling's wrists, and steadily fixing his gaze 
 upon the stony eyes that met him, called loudly 
 twice. " Ned ! Ned ! Wake up, boy. We're 
 home." 
 
 There was a flash across his face, a shivering 
 of his powerful frame, and Aveling returned to 
 himself. Kent had released his wrists, but his hand 
 was still extended. He glanced down, as if won- 
 dering how it came in that position. Suddenly, 
 his old bewildering smile flashed out. " Well 
 won't you take my honorable hand?" he said, 
 with a glimmer of his youthful fun. " Here's wel- 
 come to the House of Aveling."
 
 THE FACE OF STONE 15 
 
 Kent's heart leaped, for the gracious figure 
 that leaned toward him against the dying splendor 
 of the sky was, in voice and manner and person, 
 the merry man Aveling he knew so well.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE SPELL 
 
 KENT could not at once recover. He rose to 
 leave the carriage, half inclined to doubt his senses. 
 But, whether imagined or no, the dread of the 
 house fell upon him with tangible weight, as he 
 passed into its shadow. When he approached the 
 massive portal, it opened to receive him like the 
 maw of some horrible monster. 
 
 A sensation of relief came over him; as the 
 heavy, oaken door swung back, and let out a flood 
 of light, he began eagerly to talk. When they 
 had entered, Aveling suddenly became brusque, 
 and without much ceremony turned him over to 
 a servant. Kent passively followed this func- 
 tionary up the staircase, a massive structure of 
 carved wood, widening occasionally into platforms 
 to break the toilsome ascent to the next floor. 
 Every footstep sounded loud upon the oaken 
 boards, and struck a jarring note into the har- 
 mony below. It was a fascinating picture of rosy 
 light, falling upon the mellow beauty of ages. 
 Kent looked down for a moment, and then went 
 on. The wide corridors led through a wilderness 
 
 16
 
 THE SPELL 17 
 
 of rooms, softly lit and hung with tapestry, open- 
 ing out in every direction, until it seemed to his 
 bewildered mind that he had stumbled into a castle 
 of dreams, instead of the home of his lifelong 
 friend. The servant, moving noiselessly ahead, 
 selected a room in the multitude, and, inviting 
 Kent to enter, followed him through the door- 
 way. 
 
 " Mr. Aveling gave orders to have these rooms 
 prepared for you, and I was to ask if you want 
 to have anything changed, sir." 
 
 Kent looked about in some surprise, as he heard 
 the precise enumeration of provisions for his com- 
 fort. Aveling had remembered the most trifling 
 personal tastes. He replied briefly to the servant's 
 pressing inquiries that everything was quite to his 
 liking, and felt relieved when the door had closed 
 behind the man, and he was free to move with 
 curious interest about the spacious apartment. 
 
 A bright fire snapped in a companionable man- 
 ner in the ancient grate. Beside it stood a chair, 
 a modern type he particularly liked, and nearby, 
 a shaded lamp for nocturnal reading. A glow 
 went through him. The forebodings he had felt 
 dropped away like an outworn garment. They 
 seemed incongruous in the dreamy repose with 
 which the room wooed the senses, and the signs 
 of friendly thought scattered on every side. He 
 heard the sound of Aveling's voice somewhere in
 
 18 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 the corridor. Mellowed and softened by distance, 
 it became the ringing voice he used to know. He 
 shook himself impatiently, the bewilderment of 
 his recent emotions still upon him. 
 
 " I am ashamed of you, Kent," he said, half 
 aloud, in the mood of youth before the memories 
 of a vital, mellow age. " You are of the things 
 raw and new." 
 
 He had fully recovered his easy buoyancy when 
 he descended to the first floor, and almost ran into 
 his host standing at the foot of the stairway. 
 Aveling started, looked annoyed, and turned ab- 
 ruptly away. " Follow me," he said coldly. " We 
 always sit in the Red Parlor." 
 
 It was like a dash of cold water to Kent. Was 
 it possible that the chattering gossips had the 
 truth? His disquiet returned, for Aveling had 
 undergone some alteration which gave Kent the 
 weird impression that another man had taken his 
 place. He looked up and down the figure moving 
 ahead of him. Even his very motions had changed. 
 It required some effort on Kent's part to resume 
 his usual manner. 
 
 " Say, Ned, is this a house or a town ? " he 
 asked, as they entered the Red Parlor. " If I 
 hadn't been furnished by Providence with a bump 
 of locality, I might be in the next county. I 
 wandered off the main highway into the most 
 incredible places, coming down. Don't you pro-
 
 THE SPELL 19 
 
 vide a chart and compass for plain Americans ? " 
 Kent's face was bland and open. 
 
 Aveling shrank a little, and dropped his eyes. 
 His wife cut into the blank. 
 
 " The size of the house is overpowering. I felt 
 the same way at first. After dinner, perhaps 
 Edward will show you some of the rooms in this 
 wing." She finished with a timid appeal, full of 
 the tenderest concern. 
 
 Aveling perceptibly shivered, and began ab- 
 ruptly to talk, with a sharp, incisive voice. 
 
 " Kent, how do those ghostly experiments of 
 yours get on ? " 
 
 " The table tipping, and so on ? " asked Kent 
 incredulously, unable to believe his senses. 
 
 " Yes. You know I I've grown quite inter- 
 ested." 
 
 Kent had a moment of amazement. Aveling 
 could never be induced to so much as hear of 
 Kent's psychological studies. It was the only 
 difference of their college days, Aveling always 
 asserting that every man has a loose screw, and 
 that he had run on Kent's very early. But now 
 he listened with avidity, and eagerly followed 
 Kent's careful lead. He had evidently read and 
 thought deeply about the subject, as Kent pres- 
 ently discovered. The amazing shift of interest 
 was full of meaning. 
 
 Meanwhile, the talk wandered to other things,
 
 20 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 but Aveling never failed to bring it back to some 
 form of psychic thought, as if his mind were fixed 
 there. Kent's anxiety became extreme. It wiped 
 out his interest in the strange fortune which had 
 fallen to Aveling's lot. He knew that rich treas- 
 ures and ancient glories passed before him. But 
 he saw only the master of this splendor, once the 
 merriest of the merry, the inspiration of mad-cap 
 gayety, wearing upon his darkened brow the sign 
 of a spirit that wore sackcloth and ashes. 
 
 The puzzle only deepened when, after dinner, 
 Aveling steadily ignored all the hints his wife 
 urged upon him. She came, and laid a hand upon 
 his shoulder, with smiling insistence. A dark flush 
 stained his cheek. He grasped his chair, as if 
 something strove to pull him away. " Don't worry 
 me so, Aline. Can't you see I I want to ask 
 Kent some questions ? " he finished lamely, pant- 
 ing a little. Beads of cold sweat sparkled upon 
 his brow. 
 
 Mrs. Aveling turned away, and did not answer. 
 He threw a furtive glance at her. " You know I 
 have a headache, dear," he said more gently, as 
 if anxious to atone for his roughness. 
 
 But he turned at once to Kent, asking with 
 some abruptness, " Do you think we are deathless 
 beings ? " 
 
 Kent took this to mean that Aveling wished to 
 return to the subject of psychic research. He
 
 THE SPELL 21 
 
 considered Aveling's youthful scepticism before 
 replying, and then rambled on about some experi- 
 ments which were exciting much comment in Amer- 
 ica, some startling evidence of communication with 
 the dead. 
 
 At this point, Aveling's interest became acute. 
 He started forward. " Do you think communion 
 with the dead is possible ? " 
 
 " I do indeed," said Kent earnestly. " I think 
 the only bar is the difficulty of finding a common 
 speech." 
 
 He was disagreeably stirred, for before his very 
 eyes, Aveling was altering, line by line. His 
 countenance grew cold and sphinx-like, his stature 
 seemed to increase. Kent turned away from the 
 baleful light that glittered in his eyes, and con- 
 tinued to quietly talk. Aveling suddenly inter- 
 rupted, as if following some inward train of 
 thought. " Then even a trifling interference with 
 the ordinary events of life might be considered 
 as a sign that some one was trying to establish 
 communication." 
 
 " Yes yes, it might," Kent replied, his eyes 
 on the fire. Aveling's hollow voice boomed like 
 fog-bells. His impassioned interest was puzzling 
 to Kent, who did not see in the least the drift 
 of his talk. Kent replied cautiously. " There 
 have been some messages, clearly not the result 
 of fraud, which might indicate that some one was
 
 22 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 trying to work the line. It is, at least, a reason- 
 able conjecture. Now, for instance " 
 
 He turned about, and then started to his feet. 
 Aveling had vanished as completely as if he had 
 been drawn upward through the air!
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 BETWEEN TWO WORLDS 
 
 MRS. AVELING had risen to her feet. Her face 
 was white, her eyes wide and staring. She put 
 her hands to her throat. " You mustn't mind 
 Ned's leaving, Mr. Kent. He is very tired. Per- 
 haps you would like to go to your room." 
 
 Deeply mystified, Kent bade her good-night, 
 and took himself upstairs. Once, in a favorable 
 turn of the staircase, he looked back. Mrs. Avel- 
 ing stood where he had left her, wringing her 
 hands. Kent went on ; but the whole house seemed 
 to undergo an alteration. The corridors rustled 
 as if unseen beings moved in the shades. The 
 chambers yawned like black caverns as he passed. 
 As he stepped into the darkness of his room, the 
 fire in the grate, sunk to a bed of embers, stared 
 out of the gloom like a dull red eye. He could 
 no longer evade the fear that pressed upon him. 
 This heritage of Aveling's contained a mystery, 
 of what shape or meaning he could not guess ; 
 he only knew it to be a grim reality. Stirring the 
 fire into a brisk blaze, he drew a chair before it, 
 and, dropping into the easy hollow, gave him- 
 
 23
 
 24. THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 self up to all the unpleasant reflections which 
 the situation evoked. 
 
 Kent knew only the barest outlines of Aveling's 
 history. It had never interested either of them 
 in their boyhood days. But now he ran over the 
 scanty facts with anxious care. Aveling was an 
 American by birth. His ancestry, after running 
 back a few generations, crossed over to England. 
 The family there was one of great wealth and 
 power, stretching an unbroken line to William 
 Conqueror, after which it was lost or dimmed 
 in the haze of pre-Norman times. 
 
 In the colonial era, a younger son, stirred by 
 a spirit of adventure, had gone away, under a 
 cloud of wails and angry protests, to that new 
 country then unveiling its young, raw face to a 
 bewildered world. Perhaps, too, he felt the re- 
 bellion which stirred in the uneasy heart of Eng- 
 land. At any rate, he left the country with a 
 band of rovers, and never returned. From this 
 redoubtable gentleman sprang that branch of the 
 family of which Aveling was the last and only 
 representative. 
 
 Aveling was a typical American, devoid of even 
 the smallest interest in his fast-developing des- 
 tiny. He was young, full of buoyant spirits, 
 and as keenly alive as the migrating ancestor. He 
 always listened with peals of laughter to the 
 friends who at times, in all seriousness, urged
 
 BETWEEN TWO WORLDS 25 
 
 upon him considerations of the thinning wall about 
 the English estate. 
 
 By one of those fatalities which make even the 
 hardiest feel the stirrings of superstitious dread, 
 the four lives between were swept away in the 
 short space of four months. An English law- 
 yer, very dignified and taciturn, brought the news 
 to the heir. Shocked and startled out of himself 
 as Aveling was, he first had desperate ideas of 
 renouncing the succession. But after reflection 
 sobered this extravagance, and as soon as possi- 
 ble, he and his bride set sail for England. 
 
 Here Kent's knowledge ceased, except for 
 vague rumors reaching him at times that Avel- 
 ing had turned forgetful of old friends. These 
 he always stoutly denied, and, when the letter 
 from Roxmoor arrived, it stilled uneasy suspi- 
 cion, and he sailed away with a light heart. 
 
 Kent, sunk deep in musing, leaned his head 
 against the chair. The fire leaped like a thing 
 of volition. The corners of the room were blot- 
 ted in shadow. A few candles starred the gloom. 
 He seemed in a very sea of silence, with Aveling's 
 passionate questionings about the human destiny 
 beating in his brain. Why were these things mat- 
 ters of such burning interest, things which a year 
 ago were scoffed at? Aveling was vitally inter- 
 ested in the possibility of communication with the 
 dead. This lively concern had sprung up after
 
 26 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 coming to Roxmoor, as if his change of attitude 
 had its sole inspiration there. Every word and 
 act of his indicated some unusual relation between 
 the master and the place. 
 
 Kent fell to thinking more intently. Why 
 should the old castle, mere shell of man's doings, 
 create any human passion? But, as the thought 
 crossed his mind, the dignity of this warden of 
 the past rebuked him, for the majesty of ages 
 marked its form and boundaries. This hoary 
 shape of stone was more than a man-made shel- 
 ter; it grew to meet human needs, registering the 
 growth and death of many lives. The colossal 
 foundations were laid by the terror of rude times. 
 The frowning battlements rose to meet enmity and 
 strife. Every detail about it was shaped by the 
 need of the life it sheltered, as a bird, beak, claw, 
 and wing, is shaped by its daily habit. 
 
 At this point, Kent's imaginings rose higher. 
 Everything that lived and died within this habi- 
 tation left some trace of its physical being. Then 
 why should man ignorantly believe that the strug- 
 gles of the spirit leave no trace? Shall physical 
 need stamp an immortal shape, and the cry of 
 the soul go unheard? It could not be that life 
 would so deny the dignity of the spirit. The place 
 was alive with the vibrations of human feeling, 
 of love and hate, joy and woe, pointing signifi- 
 cantly to the shadow that cast its gruesome
 
 BETWEEN TWO WORLDS 27 
 
 length over the latest born of the Avelings. Some 
 human grief had outlived the past, and struggled 
 to be heard. 
 
 As these speculations shifted in Kent's brain, 
 he felt again that odd drugging of the senses 
 which befell him with the first sight of Aveling's 
 face. Perhaps it might contain a hint of the 
 blight which overhung the manor. With a con- 
 scious giving over to the mysterious influence, 
 Kent sank into his chair. A deadly silence fell. 
 Dim memories and dreams of memories began to 
 shift. The firelight sank. The shadows crept 
 stealthily from their lair upon the motionless fig- 
 ure in the chair. A slight wind rose outside, and 
 shook the heavy shutters. Kent suddenly bounded 
 to his feet. He had a sharp impression that some 
 one stood beside him. The fire had fallen so low 
 it cast only a circle of dull red about the hearth. 
 The candles had sunk to tiny sparks. He stood 
 for a moment, straining his eyes as he leaned 
 forward. The uncanny feeling remained. 
 
 " Ned is that you ? " his voice floated off, a 
 sepulchral echo of his usual full tones. Not a 
 sound returned. As he stood, there came a grad- 
 ual fading of the stealthy presence, until he once 
 more felt alone. 
 
 With a mingled feeling of dismay and in- 
 credulity, he waited, listening. Although he heard 
 nothing, there was the sense of retreating foot-
 
 28 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 steps. He started forward, and turned on a flare 
 of light. It flooded the room. No one was to 
 be seen. He went to the door, and looked out 
 into the corridor. A few lights burned low. A 
 servant was passing through, carrying a candle. 
 
 " Did has has Mr. Aveling retired ? " stum- 
 bled Kent. 
 
 " Yes, sir. I left 'im 'aalf asleep just now." 
 
 It was an honest English face, but, as Kent 
 looked, a half-amused scrutiny came into it. The 
 man spoke again. " My name is Watson, sir. I 
 am Mr. Aveling's man. 'E told me to walk down 
 the corridor, and see if everything was right for 
 you." 
 
 Kent felt abashed. How could he tell these 
 intangible terrors to an English valet? " There 
 is a shutter outside my window that makes a con- 
 founded racket. I don't understand the fasten- 
 ings." 
 
 " I'll see to it, sir." 
 
 The man came in, and adjusted the shutter 
 Kent pointed out. " I never could stand a rat- 
 tling shutter," lied Kent, slipping a piece of silver 
 into the man's hand. He saw the slightest flick 
 of an eyelash. 
 
 " Maaster caan't abide a rattlin' shutter," said 
 the man, as he vanished. 
 
 Kent closed the door, and turned away. His 
 own face, alert and strained, suddenly confronted
 
 BETWEEN TWO WORLDS 29 
 
 him. He put up his hand to brush away this 
 phantasmal vision of himself. It struck the wing 
 of a folding mirror, which had swung open. 
 
 Overbalanced by this trivial occurrence, Kent, 
 for one horrified moment, was suspended between 
 two worlds. His speculations had gathered about 
 the subtleties of mind and thought; and, behold, 
 out of the air, there had risen the veritable sub- 
 stance of a human personality. He felt still the 
 pressure of that unseen presence upon his quiv- 
 ering nerves. He cast a swift glance about the 
 room. It was empty. With a mighty effort, he 
 braced himself against the clamor of his senses. 
 " Pshaw ! I fell asleep, and dreamed," he said 
 doggedly.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE DANGER IN THE CASTLE 
 
 THE morning sunshine and fresh English air 
 were streaming in at Kent's casement when he 
 awoke. The room overlooked a garden, and he 
 looked out with delight, from the deep embrasure, 
 upon the first sunny thing he had seen about the 
 place. It was an old English garden, enclosed 
 with yew hedges, blazing with the flowers of late 
 summer. Tiger-lilies hung in clusters of tawny 
 beauty, imaging the spirit of a dreamy East. A 
 bed of poppies, that spoke of drowsy syrups, 
 spread out shallow cups of red and white. Kent 
 turned impatiently away. Even there his mind 
 seemed unaccountably to run along the track of 
 mystery and passion. 
 
 As this thought flashed upon him, Kent's feel- 
 ing changed, his scorn of last night's fears put 
 down by the constant presence of some mystery. 
 There was more in Ned's problem than could be 
 accounted for by his change of living. A curious 
 thrill shot through Kent. Was it possible that 
 Aveling was in any trouble? He could imagine 
 nothing within the range of probability. Aveling 
 
 30
 
 THE DANGER IN THE CASTLE 31 
 
 seemed safe and secure, surrounded by wealth and 
 ease. But something had befallen this expatri- 
 ated pair, and, as they both preserved the deep- 
 est reticence, he thought it might be well to recon- 
 noitre a little before blundering into the subject 
 with questions which neither one might want to 
 answer. There be many things undreamed in the 
 philosophy of an American business man, Kent 
 dryly remembered, and he prepared for closer 
 observation. 
 
 He passed through the corridors with watchful 
 senses. The transformation in himself gave value 
 even to trifles. The heavily beamed ceiling over- 
 head, almost lost in the shadow, and the pon- 
 derous stonework, were still sombre and severe, 
 but less human in the daylight, which struggled 
 through leaded casements set deep in thick walls. 
 It came to Kent fantastically as the light of a late 
 century, seeking to pierce the darkness of an 
 old one. 
 
 He paused a moment at the stairhead. His 
 glance leaped down the splendor of the ancient 
 hallway. The fairy glow of last night had van- 
 ished, and left it gloomy. Old armor hung upon 
 the walls, and trophies of by-gone sport. An 
 immense hooded fireplace yawned black and empty. 
 The floor was heavily paved with stout stone 
 blocks. It was silent and empty as a tomb. Not 
 a sign of life could be seen within its chill ex-
 
 32 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 tent. Not even the dance of sunbeams on the 
 floor. It had a curious effect of arrested life, as 
 if here, like the still centre of a cyclone, was a 
 spot of death in the whirl of a busy, late century. 
 
 Kent went on down the stairs. He suddenly 
 stopped, chilled to the bone. For, not two feet 
 away, stood the still form of Aveling, near the 
 foot of the stairs. His hands were folded quietly 
 over each other on the heavy oak balustrade. 
 With the swiftness of strained attention, Kent 
 noticed how still and wax-like they looked on the 
 dark wood, as if life and volition had retreated 
 out of them. The whole man, staring fixedly at 
 some object beyond Kent's line of vision, seemed 
 as lifeless as the coats of mail, which here and 
 there stood in empty mockery. 
 
 For a moment Kent's stillness matched Avel- 
 ing's. Then he crept silently up a few steps. 
 Aveling retained his death-like attitude. Kent 
 struck into a blithe song from one of the late 
 operas, clattered loudly down the stairs, and, 
 turning abruptly at the bottom, effected a neat 
 collision with the figure leaning against the bal- 
 ustrade. Aveling tottered, as a stone image with- 
 out the power of balance might have done. Kent 
 caught the swaying form. 
 
 " Steady on, Ned. I was so busy with that con- 
 founded trill " Kent went on, pouring out a 
 
 stream of talk until a look of intelligence emerged
 
 THE DANGER IN THE CASTLE 33 
 
 in Aveling's face, followed by a faint smile about 
 his white lips. He shook himself, as if waking 
 from a sleep, and with a brusque word or two, 
 started for the Red Parlor. Something white 
 flashed out of a distant corner across Kent's vi- 
 sion. He glanced back. It was Mrs. Aveling's 
 face. Her pallor was made ghastly by the cav- 
 ernous, horror-struck eyes that steadily followed 
 Aveling. Kent turned hastily away; the pallid 
 face seemed to drift before him. Here, at least, 
 was painted something tangible, chilling, para- 
 lyzing fear. Perhaps, it might be possible to 
 gain some useful hint from her. 
 
 ** I wonder where Aline is," said Aveling irri- 
 tably, glancing about the Red Parlor as they 
 entered. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," blandly lied Kent. 
 
 She appeared in a few moments, and break- 
 fast was immediately announced. Aveling looked 
 closely at her across the table. 
 
 " Where did you get your red cheeks, 
 dear? " 
 
 Kent saw the quick color rise under the rouge. 
 But she rallied instantly. Her look met Avel- 
 ing's with steady control. " Why, Ned, I believe 
 the climate affects my skin. They say, Mr. Kent, 
 the English color is an affair of climate." The 
 tense animation of her face sought Kent's with 
 an appeal.
 
 34 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 "That's just what I think," he said, with 
 hearty interest. " Perhaps you have noticed that 
 the people in our western states all have a bleached 
 appearance. I spent a whole summer in the 
 West." He met her appeal. 
 
 " Oh, you did ! " she exclaimed, with feverish 
 cordiality. " Won't you tell us about it? I have 
 never been West." 
 
 Kent beamed. " Will you really listen ? I 
 never before found any one who would. You 
 can't imagine how brutal a human being can be, 
 unless you try to tell him about your travels. 
 Your very unique and interesting travels, Mr. Ned 
 Aveling," he finished loudly. 
 
 " Oh, I wouldn't mind hearing you talk, Kent, 
 but you will quote poetry." 
 
 " The trouble is, Ned, you're daft as a French- 
 man about fitness. You won't take poetry, unless 
 it's bound in morocco, presented beside a fire, with 
 you at beautiful ease in a cushioned chair." 
 
 " Well ! When a man stops a hair-breadth 
 climb among the Rockies to quote Browning, it's 
 the plain man's time to say things." 
 
 Aveling's eyes were blazing, and a flush had 
 crept upon his cheeks. Some halting of the serv- 
 ice caused Mrs. Aveling to look up. She saw the 
 impassive man who served the meal staring in 
 blank amazement at his master. The flow of talk 
 went on until a loud, ringing peal of laughter fell
 
 THE DANGER IN THE CASTLE 35 
 
 from Aveling's lips. This was instantly followed 
 by a crash of china. 
 
 "Why hullo! What's up?" asked Aveling, 
 watching the flushed servant gather up the frag- 
 ments of shattered china. Then he looked ab- 
 sently across the table. " I believe I never 
 laughed before in Roxmoor." 
 
 Mrs. Aveling drooped, and did not speak, and 
 Kent, after a quick survey of Aveling's absent 
 face, plunged into the silence with a garrulous 
 reminiscence of an expedition to the Rocky Moun- 
 tains to hunt for grizzlies. After a few moments, 
 Aveling showed signs of interest, and presently 
 gave his tale a close and interested attention. 
 When they rose to leave the table, he seemed to 
 have forgotten the unhappy memory spurred by 
 the incident of the broken china. But on Mrs. 
 Aveling's white cheeks, two spots of vivid red 
 stood out. 
 
 After breakfast, they loitered awhile in the Red 
 Parlor. Then Aveling rose. " Come on, Kent, 
 let's take a little run through the house." 
 
 " All right. I'm your boy." 
 
 He noticed an anxious look cross Mrs. Avel- 
 ing's face, but she kept silent. In the hope she 
 might say something to him, Kent contrived to 
 leave the room last. As he approached the door, 
 he saw her crouched close beside it. She leaned 
 forward when he passed her, saying in a
 
 36 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 low voice, " Be careful of him, The Italian 
 Wing!" 
 
 Kent went on, muttering to himself. " The 
 Italian Wing! Now I wonder is it black or white 
 or colored, and how in Heaven's name would a 
 man hope to know it? Wings don't sound dan- 
 gerous to me. Kent, you don't know this game." 
 
 But, in spite of his grim humor, a chill crept 
 upon him. His speculations had received an 
 answer. Danger lurked somewhere in the castle !
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE ITALIAN WING 
 
 AVELING crossed the court which formed the 
 central hall, and climbed the great stairs. He 
 unlocked a door opening upon the upper gallery, 
 and let Kent through. Then they traversed a 
 series of corridors, with rooms on every side. 
 Aveling was growing serious again. His manner 
 became more stately as he stopped occasionally 
 to recite events connected with the history of the 
 house. The castle interior showed everywhere 
 marks of turbulent times. The size of it was 
 enormous. A town might comfortably lodge 
 within its walls. 
 
 They had reached a sort of enclosed court, 
 which overlooked a range of three galleries. Avel- 
 ing was telling of some riots which occurred 
 there in Bloody Mary's reign, and martyrdoms 
 that led to the closing of this portion as accursed. 
 His voice rose weirdly in the recital. 
 
 Kent coolly surveyed the place. " I say, Ned, 
 why don't you rent out some of these streets? 
 The place wants livening." 
 
 87
 
 38 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Aveling gasped. " I say, Kent, your bump of 
 reverence wants looking after." 
 
 But the shot told. His gloom lifted, and his 
 voice became natural, to Kent's unmeasured sur- 
 prise. " I guess that Wing flopped," he said, 
 to himself. " But why, in nature, is it danger- 
 ous?" 
 
 Kent grew more absorbed as they went deeper 
 into the endless corridors. He studied, with 
 thoughtful care, the various eras superimposed 
 upon each other, directing especial attention to 
 the main building from which the wings spread 
 out. Aveling was telling him that this was the 
 real ancestral home. Its date was unknown. Only 
 the perfectly traceable family line gave any clue 
 to its origin. They knew it was standing when 
 the Normans trampled the Saxons underfoot. 
 
 They had penetrated deep into the remotest 
 portion of the castle. Not a sound came from 
 the outside world, shut away by walls of silence. 
 They were standing close together, when some 
 strange uneasiness began to fret Kent, some curi- 
 ous longing. He glanced at Aveling, who was 
 staring at an old panelled wall, black with age, 
 and unbroken by door or window. Kent found 
 the spot upon which Aveling's eye was fixed. A 
 panel exactly like the others. On closer inspec- 
 tion, it seemed to fit a little more loosely. 
 
 All at once, a curious thing happened to Kent.
 
 THE ITALIAN WING 39 
 
 He felt something like an electric current nip 
 his tingling nerves; and presently, along that 
 track, there stole thoughts and feelings which 
 amazed him. Silently he moved, until he touched 
 Aveling's shoulder, and together they were swept 
 into a mood of smouldering passion. Aveling was 
 breathing loudly, and Kent plainly felt the pres- 
 sure of some grim force which Aveling held des- 
 perately at bay. 
 
 Kent's loose thoughts began to string together. 
 Some organizing power flowed toward him from 
 the aging pile of stone and wood, and gathered 
 round the ghostly encounter in his room last 
 night. The haunted structure held something 
 like a belated traveller from the past, and Avel- 
 ing, caught in its grip, was hastening to unfore- 
 seen ends. Kent resolved to gain something from 
 the moment. He raised his hand, pointing to the 
 loose panel. 
 
 "Ned, is that a secret door?" 
 " Yes. It leads to the Italian Wing." 
 By Heaven, he had stumbled on it! He paused 
 a moment, irresolute. How could he let the chance 
 slip to explore the secret? And yet, how dared 
 he risk a danger he did not understand? Mrs. 
 Aveling had told him to beware of the Wing. 
 Aveling crossed the floor, and opened a heavy 
 shutter. 
 
 " You can see it from here," he said.
 
 40 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Kent followed to the window, and, looking out 
 upon a long wing, saw, like an excrescence upon 
 it, a garden front, interrupting awkwardly the 
 splendid lines of an otherwise consistent whole. 
 It was close shut and barred. 
 
 " It looks like an addition," he ventured, con- 
 sumed with curiosity. 
 
 " It was built for the homesick bride of a Mid- 
 dle Age Aveling. She was an Italian." 
 
 But this told Kent nothing of the danger which 
 haunted the Wing. To save him, he could not 
 help the words that followed : " Are we going in ? 
 It looks as if I'd like it." 
 
 Aveling's face became an inscrutable mask. 
 He drew into a rigid posture, and, putting out a 
 hand, mechanically closed the shutter and locked 
 it. Kent, bitterly repenting his rash words, saw 
 him move toward the panel and pause before it, 
 making a motion as if to touch the spring. Then, 
 suddenly, with a visible wrench of his whole being, 
 he tore himself away, and, quickly crossing the 
 floor, opened a door, disclosing a winding stair- 
 case. A slight paleness and a quick-drawn, silent 
 breath betrayed that he had ventured near some 
 danger. 
 
 " This leads to the battlements overhead," he 
 said formally. " The view is superb."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE BTJBDEN 
 
 ON the fourth day after Kent's arrival, Mrs. 
 Aveling came in from a drive with a light on 
 her face he had not seen before. " Oh, Ned," she 
 began, "who do you suppose is here? Betty 
 Gary is visiting Lady Melton. I just went over 
 by accident. She said she wanted to surprise 
 me." 
 
 Through the happy ripple of words that fol- 
 lowed, Kent learned that this was one of Mrs. 
 Aveling's girlhood friends, and that they were 
 all coming to dinner the next night. Aveling was 
 interested at once, and suggested a few additions 
 to the party. Kent gathered, from the talk 
 which followed, that they were on very good terms 
 with the neighborhood. The Melton family were 
 blood relations, and James Carew was a close 
 friend of the late master of Roxmoor. 
 
 " We want you to know our new friends," said 
 Mrs. Aveling, turning to Kent. 
 
 " Is it to be very formal ? Will I be very much 
 frightened ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Our dinner parties are never formal. 
 41
 
 42 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 We try to keep some of the dear old American 
 ways," she said, with a shadow on her face. " You 
 will like Lady Melton, she is lovely. And you 
 will just love Betty," she finished earnestly. 
 
 " Why, of course I will. Did you ever see a 
 girl I didn't love?" 
 
 She got up, with a peal of laughter, and went 
 out. They heard her singing as she went. Even 
 Aveling's face was bright and eager. The slight- 
 est shift of this new life, with its solemn digni- 
 ties, eased and renewed them both. 
 
 This diversion chanced to be very welcome to 
 Kent. In the last two days Aveling had gone 
 through many changes of mood which Kent 
 feigned not to see. He noticed, with some an- 
 noyance, that his own moods conformed strangely 
 to Aveling's capricious ones. His even spirits 
 were never used to run very high. But neither 
 did they sink into these deeps of heaviness and 
 apprehension. He tried to evade them, with angry 
 scorn, but they bestrode his consciousness like 
 an old man of the sea, for Mrs. Aveling's warn- 
 ing about the Italian Wing, together with his own 
 experiences, pointed to some uneasiness associated 
 closely with the house. Kent felt a gathering 
 curiosity on that point. He felt it to be neces- 
 sary to proceed with some caution. He was only 
 a guest in the house, and might easily become 
 an officious meddler. But a vague fear prowled
 
 THE BURDEN 43 
 
 in the background of his thoughts. He had had 
 no warning, before he came, that anything was 
 amiss, except for the idle gossip he had swept 
 impatiently aside. Henshaw's queer actions at 
 the steamer returned with sinister meaning. It 
 was evident to Kent that the general public was 
 familiar with a range of facts unknown to him. 
 
 He, therefore, eagerly looked forward to the 
 dinner, with the hope of gaining some useful 
 knowledge concerning the mystery which sur- 
 rounded Aveling. These strange moods could not 
 be caused by the unaccustomed splendor of his 
 new life. Kent's study of psychic research pointed 
 to the influence of something deeper. It was a 
 commonly accepted fact, among the students of 
 this science, that old houses may cause a change 
 of character. Something like this must have oc- 
 curred. But in such cases it was always some 
 definite emotion that was aroused, fear, anger, 
 sorrow, something that would point the way to 
 a definite cause. Here Kent hoped for light from 
 that meeting with Aveling's friends. 
 
 When the evening came, he watched, with every 
 sense alert, to catch even the straw's betrayal, as 
 the rooms began to fill. It was a somewhat mixed 
 company, with a strong infusion of American 
 ideals. There were heads of county families of 
 more or less importance ; a clergyman or two, and 
 Dr. Warren, the family physician, whom Kent had
 
 44 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 met before. They renewed the acquaintance, now, 
 with some interest. 
 
 The butler threw back the carved doors. 
 
 " Lord and Lady Melton." 
 
 Kent caught these two names with deep interest, 
 and bent a close inspection upon the tall beauty 
 emerging from the doorway. Her robes fell 
 about her graceful movements with statuesque 
 simplicity. At her neck and wrists sparkled the 
 wonderful Melton diamonds. If she knew any- 
 thing of the uneasiness at Roxmoor, there were 
 no signs of it in her words of greeting. This Lady 
 Melton might prove to be an admirable person, 
 thought Kent. 
 
 This interesting lady was followed by a tall, 
 fresh-faced man. Under the cover of Lady Mel- 
 ton's lively flow of words, the stranger directed 
 a look, sharp as a lance, at Aveling, who was 
 talking with Lady Melton. It struck Kent that 
 Aveling looked particularly pale to-night. There 
 was a hint of something imperious and haughty 
 in his bearing. 
 
 He was a little surprised to see this formal 
 manner soften somewhat^ as Aveling called out 
 to him. The faintest hint of something instantly 
 suppressed betrayed Lady Melton's studied gayety. 
 Kent noticed a fleeting exchange of look between 
 this titled pair whom he was summoned to meet, 
 as if his presentation bore some significance. His
 
 THE BURDEN 45 
 
 penetration was utterly baffled. He bowed over 
 the slim grace of the beautiful hand that Lady 
 Melton held out to him. 
 
 " I am so glad to meet you, Mr. Kent. Rox- 
 moor has been shut away from us all for so long. 
 It seems so good to see it full of life again." 
 
 Kent failed to read what lay behind the sim- 
 ple words. An admirable person, this Lady Mel- 
 ton. He could not pierce her light calm any more 
 than he could part the Red Sea. 
 
 " Full of life ! " he repeated, with a ruminating 
 air. " Full of life. Does that mean me ? I had 
 no idea I was so expansive." 
 
 Lady Melton fanned her cheerful face, with the 
 frank smile upon it. " Oh, I knew at once that 
 you were what Roxmoor needed." 
 
 Kent was looking keenly at her as she spoke. 
 Something began to dawn back of those frank 
 eyes. She slowly transferred them to Aveling, and 
 back to Kent, and, as he looked, the Red Sea 
 parted ! 
 
 When dinner was announced, there was some 
 shifting among the groups. Kent found himself 
 beside the young American girl, looking down the 
 long table. The wax-lights sent a soft glow out 
 to the shadowy Aveling hanging in solemn state 
 over the mantel-piece. Kent's glance, by acci- 
 dent, rested upon Aveling, and he started. He 
 had not noticed, before, how closely Aveling's face
 
 46 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 followed the ancestral type; that high, polished 
 brow, that backward sweep of hair, that proud 
 cut of feature. The high, almost haughty lift of 
 countenance he wore to-night gave it that inde- 
 finable set by which the same features wear so 
 many shapes. 
 
 Kent became dimly aware that his neighbor was 
 not insensible to these intangible stirrings. She 
 was making uneasy, fluttered movements. 
 
 " Mr. Kent, don't you think these old feudal 
 castles would be uncanny if you lived in them? " 
 
 Kent was wondering if she had noticed his pre- 
 occupation, and felt annoyed. 
 
 " I like the way you qualify your idea," he 
 lightly returned. 
 
 A word from Aveling caught Kent's ear. Sir 
 James Carew was telling of the old Roxmoor 
 days. It was evident he was ill at ease, and that 
 Aveb'ng was leading him on. Kent vainly tried 
 to hear. 
 
 " Are your spirits affected by them ? " Kent 
 turned again to his neighbor. Her face wore a 
 bewildered, half-frightened look. 
 
 " I don't know what it is that affects them, 
 
 but " She glanced hurriedly at Aveling, and 
 
 turned again to Kent. " Why, Melton Abbey does 
 not affect me so." 
 
 Evidently Lord Melton kept his impressions to 
 himself.
 
 THE BURDEN 47 
 
 " Do you don't you feel it, living here? " 
 she whispered. 
 
 " Oh, I'm the most unimpressionable person 
 alive. I should dearly love to meet a flesh-and- 
 blood ghost." 
 
 " Yes, but they are not flesh and blood. That's 
 just the trouble," with a rueful attempt to fol- 
 low his light mood. 
 
 " Then, dear lady, how can they affect us 
 much? " he said, in a teasing tone. 
 
 She flashed a baffled look at him. " I would 
 know you were an American if I met you on the 
 Pyramids," her red lips pouted. 
 
 " they bear the marks of history and ex- 
 perience, as plainly as a biological specimen car- 
 ries its ancestry among its curves and wrinkles." 
 
 Aveling's voice, like a deep-toned bell, struck 
 every one into silence, with a pomp and solemnity 
 that startled Kent. Everybody looked at Avel- 
 ing with a fearing expression which lent their 
 faces a curious similarity. 
 
 " Then you think that houses contain inef- 
 faceable records of the lives that have been lived 
 in them." Lord Melton spoke with a certain dry 
 detachment. 
 
 Aveling's face was dark, but it glowed dully. 
 
 " I do. How do you otherwise account " 
 
 He stopped abruptly, and began afresh, with a 
 steely change of tone. " All houses have their
 
 48 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 atmosphere. We feel it," his voice sank. 
 "We obey it!" 
 
 The silence was oppressive. Aveling's manner 
 had acquired a tragic significance. A slight ac- 
 cession of his stately calm produced that name- 
 less alteration Kent was learning to dread. 
 
 Lady Melton's silken draperies gave out a faint 
 rustle. She glanced at Mrs. Aveling. " I don't 
 think I agree with you," she said. " It seems 
 to me to be an effect made upon the mind by 
 mere age, and transferred artificially to the thing. 
 Oh, you needn't laugh ! " She suddenly turned to 
 Lord Melton, who was making extravagant ges- 
 tures of dismay. He rolled up his eyes. 
 
 " That ever I should hear Lady Melton formu- 
 late scientific theories," he breathlessly exclaimed. 
 
 Aveling bent toward her suddenly, with a pale 
 intensity of countenance, completely ignoring the 
 lead into less dangerous channels of talk. 
 
 " But, Lady Melton, consider the array of facts. 
 It is a matter of scientific evidence that a house 
 carries its influence as distinctly as a person. We 
 sometimes fall under the spell of a living man, 
 and are swayed against our will. And now sci- 
 ence tells us that a man may die, and yet the 
 agony and joy of his life remain; even the very 
 elements of personality survive bodily wreck." 
 
 There was no mistaking the deadly earnestness 
 of Aveling's mood. It was not a theory he was
 
 THE BURDEN 49 
 
 putting forth, but a grim, personal experience, 
 a fact he meant that every one should understand. 
 
 Lady Melton crumbled a bit of bread. But 
 she did not look again at Mrs. Aveling. She knew 
 only too well the mixture of emotions that was 
 gathering upon her pale face. She dropped the 
 bread, and directed a startled look at Aveling, al- 
 lowing an expression of mock horror to dawn 
 slowly upon her face. " For goodness' sake ! Do 
 you suppose there is any danger of my following 
 the pious shades of dead and gone Meltons into 
 their nunneries and monasteries? They were un- 
 comfortably pious, you know." 
 
 Everybody laughed. It even pierced Aveling*s 
 deadly seriousness, and the conversation became 
 lighter. 
 
 When Kent entered the drawing-room, after 
 dinner, he realized that Aveling's mood had 
 changed, for as his host went through the rooms, 
 exchanging a word or two with the various groups 
 of people scattered about, his old-time, bantering 
 gayety seemed to emerge and obliterate the stately 
 being of the early evening. Kent was baffled. 
 
 But he was nearer to enlightenment than he 
 dreamed. He was standing in the hall at the foot 
 of the stairs, ostensibly talking to Lady Carew, 
 with a little puzzled wonder at Sir James' choice 
 of a wife, an elfin creature, with an inordinate 
 love of fanciful dress. She tinkled and dangled
 
 50 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 with ornaments. She overran with ruffles and 
 ruchings and frills. She made quick, bird-like 
 motions, with arch looks and coy smiles. Surely 
 so empty a piece of womanhood he had seldom 
 seen. She was chattering of the company, the 
 charms of Roxmoor, so weird, the Avelings, the 
 dear, delightful Americans. 
 
 In the midst of her vapid talk a wave of stupe- 
 fying emotion swept over Kent. He was standing 
 at the foot of the stairs. He could not control 
 a start of surprise. Was that a portrait of Ned? 
 As he looked, the mists cleared away, and he saw 
 an old, darkened portrait of a dead and gone an- 
 cestor, dressed in the stately robes of the Middle 
 Ages, gorgeous with dangling chains and jewels. 
 As Kent continued to look, he wondered how he 
 could have fancied a likeness to Ned in that dark 
 face that seemed to regard the merry throng from 
 beneath the ashes of renunciation. If ever a hu- 
 man face showed the gnawing of remorse, the face 
 of the old Crusader did. And yet, as he looked, 
 he saw again the very person of the man who had 
 mysteriously vanished from sight the first evening. 
 
 " It is quite puzzling, is it not, Mr. Kent ? " 
 
 He looked down at Lady Carew's simpering 
 prettiness. " Puzzling? " he repeated. " Puz- 
 zling? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't suppose you find it so," with an 
 arch look. " You will, no doubt, be able to find
 
 THE BURDEN 51 
 
 out, and tell us at once. Americans are so shock- 
 ingly clever." 
 
 What in time is she driving at? thought Kent. 
 A look of penetration, rising in the face he scanned, 
 checked his thoughts. 
 
 " Can tell you what, may I ask, Lady Carew ? " 
 
 A deep and subtle meaning blazed over her face. 
 " One has such strange impressions, as dear Mr. 
 Aveling said." Her glance shot for a moment to 
 the old portrait which had stirred Kent so deeply. 
 She softly stepped nearer, a glow in her witch- 
 like face. " Why does the portrait so strangely 
 change him? What has he done to deserve the 
 burden of any man's remorse?" 
 
 She paused, but Kent, stunned by the implica- 
 tion of her remarks, did not reply. There was 
 the faintest tinge of mockery in her voice as she 
 spoke again. " I am sure that you will find out 
 at once" Some one spoke to her, and she moved 
 away, leaving Kent in the whirl of a bewildering 
 idea. Remorse! Nothing could be further from 
 Ned's blameless life. What could it mean?
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A VICAEIOUS PENANCE 
 
 LONG after the last guest had departed, Avel- 
 ing sat talking. His deadly seriousness had gone. 
 His company mood, which had been an evident 
 surprise to every one, mounted higher, and kept 
 Kent a silent listener late into the night, won- 
 dering what mysterious turn of fate linked laugh- 
 ing Ned and his ancient double. When they sepa- 
 rated for the night, Kent, ascending the stairs, 
 glanced back. Aveling's face was bright and 
 cheerful. He looked almost boyish in his even- 
 ing clothes. He threw up his head with one of 
 his flashing smiles. " By my holidam, man, but 
 it's good to have you here ! " 
 
 As the ancient phrase left his lips, a nameless 
 change fell upon the bright face. Kent paused, 
 uncertain whether to leave him or no. But, as 
 he looked, Aveling turned away, and walked 
 slowly out of sight. Kent went on to his 
 room. 
 
 But once alone, all his disquiet returned, with 
 fresh force, as he went over the amazing events 
 
 52
 
 A VICARIOUS PENANCE 53 
 
 of the evening. Ned felt and obeyed something 
 pulling at him, and apparently gave it the im- 
 portance of a personality. Now suppose the in- 
 credible thing could happen ; suppose some human 
 drama, some acute experience, had outlived the 
 man who set it in motion, and lingered through 
 the centuries for fresh embodiment. What expe- 
 rience could be sufficiently vital to so reverse the 
 ordinary flow of events? Nothing in Ned's seiz- 
 ures had given him any clue. There was nothing 
 but a mingling of fear and anger. 
 
 But here, Lady Carew's hints came to his aid. 
 For, if it were true that some forgotten Aveling 
 had dipped his life so deep in crime as to raise 
 a perpetual cry of penitence, some further and 
 more insistent form of it should come, to draw 
 a purpose about these formless episodes. For 
 that it would move to a definite end, Kent did not 
 doubt. 
 
 He fell into a troubled sleep, to wake again to 
 fresh ponderings, with that Face following him 
 in the darkness. He sprang up at last, tormented 
 by his thoughts, which stayed with heavy insist- 
 ence upon Lady Carew's words. Remorse, and 
 that laughing spirit! It was incredible. 
 
 When the first streaks of dawn began to invade 
 his room, he dressed, meaning to go down and 
 prowl about in the garden. He left his room, and
 
 54 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 went quietly through the corridor, pushing open 
 the door which he thought led to the garden, and 
 for a moment was too surprised to move. 
 
 He was in a small chapel, where windows let 
 in a softly tinted light that only half revealed 
 shapes of marble and shadowy paintings upon 
 the wall: a beautiful and fitting place for soli- 
 tary devotions. He advanced further up a side 
 aisle, marvelling at the riches each moment dis- 
 closed. An altar, heavily ornamented, stood at 
 the end. He moved forward to examine it, and 
 came to an abrupt pause, for Ned Aveling, still 
 dressed in his evening clothes the merry Ned 
 whom Kent had left in the old buoyancy of spirit 
 some five hours ago knelt in the gray dawn, 
 locked in some awful austerity of penance or peti- 
 tion, as the knights of old kept a vigil. 
 
 Kent crept softly nearer. There was an ap- 
 palling stillness about the kneeling figure. His 
 profile showed deathly white against the shadow. 
 His eyes were fixed straight ahead. Kent could 
 just see the rise and fall of his quick breath, and 
 his moving lips. There was a deadly intensity 
 about him that seemed to tell of some struggle 
 of the soul, as if in some distant chamber of it 
 there were battlings of primeval passions. 
 
 Kent fell back before the horror that rushed 
 upon him. All his speculations found horrible
 
 A VICARIOUS PENANCE 55 
 
 warrant in the kneeling figure. It was no mere 
 mood which held this forceful being spell-bound; 
 but some other personality, too strong for death 
 to hold, demanding of this living man the power 
 to create an act of penance.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A TWILIGHT VISION 
 
 AT twilight on the following day, Kent was at 
 the piano. He had stolen away in an effort to 
 be alone, for Aveling dogged him everywhere. 
 Kent heard him approaching now, followed by 
 Mrs. Aveling's light step. They halted together 
 on the threshold. " Will we bother you, if we 
 come in ? " Aveling wistfully asked. 
 
 " If you'll promise not to mind my soulful 
 flights in song, I'll try to stand it, Ned." 
 
 Aveling smiled, and dropped heavily into a 
 chair. He was very pale, and looked exhausted. 
 Mrs. Aveling pulled a stool to his side, and, sink- 
 ing into it, put her head upon his knee. He be- 
 gan to smooth her hair, absently keeping pace with 
 the rhythm of Kent's music. 
 
 They were in one of the oldest rooms in the 
 wing which they inhabited, a shabby place, evi- 
 dently not much in favor with late generations. 
 It contained a collection of rare music, which 
 promised hours of delight to Kent. The yellowed 
 sheets filled a series of latticed shelves, running 
 round the recess in which the piano stood. 
 
 5
 
 A TWILIGHT VISION 57 
 
 Kent's hands wandered idly over the keys. He 
 had a gift for improvisation, and in the twilight 
 his music had a weird and penetrating charm. He 
 was thinking of last night's scene in the chapel, 
 and unconsciously his mood took expression on 
 the keys. His thoughts were in confusion, con- 
 cerning the cause of these weird occurrences into 
 which Aveling was plunged. No human agency 
 had a hand in their creation, so far as he could 
 see, and no one could help or hinder their ap- 
 proach. That convulsion of penitence at the altar 
 last night sprang unbidden out of the void. 
 Kent's uneasiness grew insistent and menacing, for 
 that strange scene left the conviction of a real 
 act, it ran upon the elemental passions. 
 
 He glanced at the fiery sunset light, falling on 
 Mrs. Aveling's bowed head, the regular motion of 
 Aveling's long, tremulous hand, and his musing 
 face, half lost in the shadow. The possibility of 
 some fresh demonstration sickened him. He 
 could not face these scenes to-day. He had a 
 sense of physical exhaustion, and a deep moral 
 distaste. 
 
 He took his hands from the keys, but no one 
 spoke as he silently placed upon the rack some 
 yellow sheets unearthed from the latticed shelves. 
 A pair of silver candlesticks, fantastically carved, 
 burned one on each side of the rack. By the 
 uncertain light he began to read the faded notes,
 
 58 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 a solemn, wailing Miserere, strangely alive with 
 the old, and yet ever new cry, of the soul for 
 more light upon the entanglement of human re- 
 lations. 
 
 As he played he became aware of a moral up- 
 lift, as when the soul reaches a higher plane 
 in the ascent of life. From some far-off place 
 came the very music of the spheres, and there 
 rose a vision, a place of deliverance, weirdly be- 
 yond his spell-bound senses. 
 
 "Edward!" 
 
 Kent's hands came down with a crash upon 
 the keys. He sprang from his seat. Mrs. Avel- 
 ing was kneeling before her husband, her arms 
 about him, pouring an agonized cry into his ears. 
 The sun, in a last expiring effort, threw a blaze 
 of light upon Aveling, who leaned forward, clutch- 
 ing the arms of his chair. His brows were drawn 
 together in an effort to fix his vision, his whole 
 form knotted in some contraction of dread or 
 fear. 
 
 " Edward ! Edward ! my darling, Ned ! " 
 Mrs. Aveling's voice stabbed the shadows, as if to 
 recall a retreating spirit. As Kent looked, he 
 saw that Face he had seen but once shape its 
 sinister outlines in the dull light. Aveling had 
 risen, and his wife still clung to him, caressing 
 his pale face and murmuring low cries of distress.
 
 A TWILIGHT VISION 59 
 
 With a sudden start, he shook off the grip of 
 the power that had fallen on him. He put his 
 arms about Mrs. Aveling's trembling form, with 
 an expression of solicitude. " Why, dearest what 
 is the trouble? " he tenderly asked. 
 
 She shivered and looked miserably at Kent, but 
 did not answer. 
 
 " Tell me, Aline. What is the matter? Did 
 something frighten you ? " He peered anxiously 
 into her face. 
 
 " Why, Ned I put my head down on your 
 knee, and I must have gone asleep and 
 dreamed." She began to tremble again. Avel- 
 ing laughed, and, drawing her closer into his arms, 
 soothed her as he would a child. " Poor little 
 girl! Dreams are so real, sometimes." He 
 looked up at Kent. " Go on, old man. Play 
 something lively, a bit of ragtime, or the latest 
 thing from old Broadway." 
 
 Kent stared in helpless amazement at the swift 
 transformation of the man his music raised. 
 Into what chasm of being had that mysterious 
 face dropped?
 
 EAISING THE UNSEEN 
 
 FOE several days Kent did not go near the 
 music-room. He had been startled out of himself 
 by an almost visible embodiment of Ned's unseen 
 tormentor, and he struggled with a horrible temp- 
 tation. Now that he was used to the thought, 
 it seemed less fantastic that a dead man should 
 usurp a living form to carry out his will, and 
 he longed to know if he had the power to sum- 
 mon that uncanny presence. It might prove much 
 to his conclusions, for every day increased the 
 evidence that Aveling's friends were in a state of 
 alarm about him, and Kent meant to carry for- 
 ward some plan of action. One thing alone 
 anchored his purpose, Mrs. Aveling's strong and 
 terrible fears. 
 
 The depth of her anguish Kent witnessed daily. 
 She watched Aveling with ceaseless vigilance, con- 
 cealing it with a readiness at which Kent mar- 
 velled. Never a quivering eyelash went unmarked 
 by that silent watch that seemed to Kent to rise 
 out of the corners of the room. Never a shadow 
 fell upon Aveling's face unseen. If he paused 
 
 60
 
 RAISING THE UNSEEN 61 
 
 upon the bridge across the pond, a shadow flit- 
 ted among the trees. If he sank wearily under 
 the elms in the park, a curtain fluttered at a 
 neighboring window. If he paced the corridor, 
 an almost silent footfall echoed his heavy tread. 
 Just what she feared, Kent did not know. After 
 all, these seizures left Ned unharmed. But there 
 was something ominous in the behavior of all the 
 people he had met. They seemed to be in ex- 
 pectation of something more than he had seen, 
 and Kent had not the smallest idea of what it 
 could be. Considering the general silence, he did 
 not feel ready for much conversation on the sub- 
 ject with any one; not, at least, until he had 
 solved the mystery of that scene in the music- 
 room, and knew there lived in the air about them 
 a form he could evoke at will. 
 
 In the few days that followed the dinner party, 
 Aveling made Kent very well acquainted with 
 the Manor and its surroundings. He even went 
 into the little chapel, pointing out its treasures 
 with a dryness of speech that Kent admired. 
 After that, with a glimpse of his old humor, he 
 bade Kent take care of himself, an invitation 
 which was accepted with alacrity. Kent made 
 a careful show of his occupied hours. He read 
 ostentatiously in Aveling's sight. He wandered 
 through the walled gardens, expatiating loudly 
 upon their beauty. He loitered beside the deep
 
 62 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 pools. But, under his lazy nonchalance, he kept 
 a watch, waiting to track that stealthy presence, 
 invisible as air, that sprang out of the void with 
 a grip like a tiger's jaw. 
 
 At the earliest opportunity Kent returned to 
 the music-room to study carefully the song which 
 had thrown Aveling so deeply into the mystery. 
 It was in a collection of medieval music, put to- 
 gether, apparently, in the eighteenth century. 
 The thing he played was a devotional song, used 
 by pious pilgrims who travelled to the Holy City 
 during the Crusades. The book suddenly fell out 
 of Kent's hands. There was a strong religious 
 bias in the Aveling family. Was its nascent 
 power stirring in Ned? He picked up the book, 
 and ran over the simple measures with the soft 
 pedal down, and resolved to play it, some day, to 
 see what effect it had. If there was any power 
 resident in the simple theme, the effect ought to 
 be constant, and, if he again raised that fear- 
 ful shape, it might give him entrance to a region 
 hid in darkness. 
 
 Things did not lend themselves to his purpose 
 for several days. Then he chanced to hear Mrs. 
 Aveling remark, one night, that she meant to 
 leave them alone the next day, to have an old- 
 time visit with Betty Gary at Melton Abbey. 
 
 Kent was not supposed to know this. Accord- 
 ingly, he disappeared to the music-room directly
 
 RAISING THE UNSEEN 63 
 
 after breakfast, knowing well that Aveling would 
 soon find him there. 
 
 A long French window looked out upon the 
 garden. It was a warm morning, and the win- 
 dow stood open. Aveling's voice was presently 
 heard outside, inquiring of a passing servant for 
 the whereabouts of " Mr. Kent." There was just 
 time to slip the book under cover. Kent was deep 
 in " Peer Gynt " when Aveling's spare form ap- 
 peared in the window. 
 
 " WeUy I have had a hunt for you." 
 
 " Have you ? Why, I've been here an hour or 
 more," said Kent, turning away from the piano. 
 
 " Go on. Don't mind me," said Aveling, drop- 
 ping into a chair. " Just keep on with your 
 classic selections. I can't tell one from the other, 
 and, if that one amuses you, I am game. Lady 
 Melton carried Aline off for the day, so you are 
 a committee to amuse me. But I'm in an amiable 
 mood, and easy to please." 
 
 Kent moved the music on the rack. A corner 
 of the ancient song-book came into view. He 
 could make his trial now. Mrs. Aveling was out 
 of reach. There was no one to shock, if what 
 he feared would follow. 
 
 After a glance at the lazy figure, stretched at 
 ease, Kent struck into the harmonies of the first 
 movement of the " Peer Gynt " suite. The trills 
 and horn-like notes seemed to breathe of morning
 
 64 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 freshness, producing its own serenity in Avel- 
 ing's quiet face. The last faint trills and dimin- 
 ishing arpeggios died, and Aveling did not stir. 
 With a little hesitation, Kent sounded the soft 
 gloom of the death of Ase. The sombre, swell- 
 ing chords called up vague images of melancholy. 
 He saw Aveling's face darken and grow veiled. 
 He swept Aveling's mood like a harp. 
 
 Without a break, he changed from the melan- 
 choly of the upper notes to the minor song from 
 the old book. , Aveling's face gleamed like steel. 
 The song wailed on. With starting eyes and 
 chilled blood, he saw that awful change. Aveling's 
 form began to knot, his vision concentrate 
 
 Kent had seen enough. With a sudden crash 
 of march-like chords, he plunged into the Torea- 
 dor's song, his rich voice starting up the echoes. 
 
 Aveling sprang upon him. " My God, man ! " 
 
 Kent put a pair of iron hands upon him. Avel- 
 ing was deathly white, he labored in some awful 
 convulsion of the soul. Kent waited, he felt the 
 relaxing of knotted muscles. 
 
 "Why, Kent I I" 
 
 "Well, you what?" 
 
 Aveling's vision wavered, he looked around the 
 room, bewildered. " I thought I saw some- 
 thing." 
 
 " You saw me." 
 
 His eyes came back to Kent. There was an
 
 RAISING THE UNSEEN 65 
 
 effort to marshal his scattered mind forces. " I 
 thought I heard something." 
 
 " You did. You heard me play." 
 
 Aveling shook his head. " I heard the 
 trampling of a great crowd, and saw lances and 
 banners, and heard the sound of loud huzzas." 
 His wavering mental poise scattered again. 
 
 " Why, wake up, man. You've been dreaming," 
 said Kent, with a clap on his shoulder. 
 
 Aveling's face, wistful as a child's, searched 
 Kent's. " Do you think that is it? " 
 
 " Why, sure. My music put you asleep. I al- 
 ways consider it to be a compliment." 
 
 There was not the slightest flicker of fun at 
 this bald nonsense. Aveling sighed heavily, and 
 returned to his seat. His steps were slow and 
 feeble. As soon as he touched the chair, he 
 bounded out of it, as if it were afire. " I can't 
 sit there I can't sit there. Don't ask me ! " He 
 grasped Kent's arm with nerveless fingers, his 
 voice shook. His sturdy, masculine powers were 
 gone. 
 
 It was evident that Aveling was incapable of 
 getting out of this maelstrom unaided. Kent 
 watched the struggle, and felt the frenzied appeal 
 of clutching fingers. It was horribly certain to 
 Kent that he could raise the spirit. Could he 
 send it back to its invisible habitation? He took 
 firm hold of Aveling.
 
 66 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " Come, Ned. You have not tried that pair 
 of hunters which came to the stables yesterday. 
 Let's take a gallop over the downs." 
 
 His eye resolutely held Aveling's, whoso face 
 began to brighten. 
 
 " The very thing! " he said joyfully. 
 
 He stretched his arms above his head, his reso- 
 lute self came back. His step was full of spring, 
 his face alight. The Tlwng had gone!
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A FBESH TRAIL 
 
 THE next day Kent was lounging about the 
 large pond, watching the slow-moving carp and 
 wondering if a boat, moored at the bottom of 
 some moss-grown steps, was meant for use. He 
 had not seen Aveling all day, which gave him some 
 quiet hours to turn over the alarming facts he 
 had gathered, and consider his own relation to 
 them, for he had plainly been an agent in last 
 night's transformation. 
 
 He began to wish he had not meddled, for his 
 own dreadful convictions were forcing him into 
 a clinch with things beyond his calculation. The 
 influence inhabiting the house was something of 
 such stout fibre as to obey a set of laws, and, 
 unwittingly, Kent had invaded that unseen em- 
 pire. But his conquest was of dubious value, for 
 it lay in his grasp with no relation to any on- 
 ward movement. 
 
 He began to feel the urgency of council. So 
 
 far as he could see, the various forms of Avel- 
 
 ing's alteration had no relation; and yet, if they 
 
 followed a chain of sequences which allowed a 
 
 67
 
 68 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 third person to produce an effect at will, they 
 must belong together and be parts of a discov- 
 erable whole. Here Kent wanted help, or, at 
 least, the knowledge of such facts as might be 
 known. If Aveling could describe his sensations 
 more fully, it might shape a way to use the 
 horrible power Kent had within his grasp. He 
 resolved, at any rate, to introduce the subject as 
 soon as Aveling was in condition for a talk. 
 
 An uncanny feeling of being watched crept over 
 him. His muscles knotted, as if a galvanic cur- 
 rent had been applied. His eyes started from 
 his head, and he began to turn, as if he were 
 a puppet in a Titan's hands, until presently he 
 faced Aveling, who stood some three paces away. 
 Aveling's eyes were fastened on him, and, in the 
 hard glitter of his regard, Kent felt something 
 like the pressure of a cage. He was bound, soul 
 and body, in bondage to Aveling's will. He saw 
 Aveling raise his arm with a peculiar motion, and 
 heard him speak in slow, formal tones : " Come 
 with me. I have need of you." 
 
 Kent's invisible bonds burst at the sound of 
 these words. He rose to his feet. Aveling was 
 plainly in the shadow of his second personality. 
 Kent had not the least idea how to avoid the dan- 
 ger, whatever it was, that always lurked about his 
 transformations. He made an effort to recall 
 Aveling's lost self. Reaching downward, he gath-
 
 A FRESH TRAIL 69 
 
 ered up a small pebble and sent it over the glassy 
 surface of the water. " Do you remember how 
 we used to skip stones at the old mill-pond? and 
 how I threw you down once, because your stone 
 touched the water more times than mine ? " 
 
 Kent looked up at the bitter face, lined be- 
 yond recognition. His words woke no response 
 in Aveling, who stared absently ahead. " I 
 don't understand," he said thickly, thrusting his 
 hands deep into his pockets. Kent's attempt to 
 spur the memory of a boyish reminiscence had 
 driven him dangerously near the forbidden line. 
 He dared not move again until Aveling spoke. 
 
 " I want to go for a walk," he said. There was 
 an odd mingling of helpless appeal and brusque 
 command. 
 
 "All right," said Kent. "Where shall we 
 
 Aveling did not answer. He turned away, and 
 plunged into a pace which Kent found it hard 
 to equal, moving as if he wore winged sandals. 
 
 In spite of his bravest effort, Kent fell behind. 
 Aveling began to talk, and, hearing the answer 
 so far in the rear, turned in his path. He looked 
 steadily into Kent's face, and Kent saw into his 
 very being. Aveling was fighting a battle for 
 supremacy of his soul, and the Invader warily 
 pressed for every inch. But he was fighting well ; 
 it was not the helpless giving over in the music-
 
 70 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 room. A faint hope stirred in Kent. The chance 
 he was looking for might come, if he followed 
 closely. 
 
 Aveling fell back until they walked together, 
 and began to talk in a lighter vein, seeming to 
 take a close interest in the village folk they met, 
 who touched their forelocks and courtesied to the 
 manor-folk. The dark power upon Aveling 
 seemed to be held in abeyance. 
 
 Kent had the impression that Aveling had set 
 out for an objective point; but, as they rambled 
 on, he dismissed it as an unaccountable vagary. 
 Especially when, as the result of an occasional 
 glance, he saw Aveling apparently examining the 
 landscape with close attention. They passed old 
 churches covered with dark-green creepers; they 
 crossed moss-hung bridges, hoary with age; they 
 feasted on the rich loveliness of rural England, 
 the drooping willows, the graceful elm, the sheep 
 peacefully feeding, the startled deer bounding 
 away through brush and bracken. 
 
 To Kent, it was a time of rare enjoyment. He 
 had forgotten, for the moment, the dark mood of 
 his companion. They went down a quiet path, 
 where Aveling abruptly paused. When Kent came 
 up with him, he saw a child standing in the shel- 
 ter of the gateway, a shy, still thing, with a 
 pair of friendly eyes. Aveling spoke gently to 
 her.
 
 A FRESH TRAIL 71 
 
 A sudden, strange impression fell upon Kent, 
 as if the shadow which enveloped Aveling reached 
 out and hung about the child. He looked down 
 in some astonishment. Was it possible that this 
 wayside peasant had any relation to Aveling's 
 enigma? As the thought came to him, he saw 
 evidences of distress in Aveling, who turned a 
 fearfully altered face toward him, and then 
 started down the path. 
 
 With a few quick strides, Kent reached Avel- 
 ing's side and grasped his arm. " Tell me, Ned. 
 Who is that beautiful child? Is she foreign- 
 born?" 
 
 " No ! " The single word fell harshly. Avel- 
 ing muttered indistinguishable words and made 
 wild gestures, swaying in a half-dream. " Some- 
 how she makes me think of that Italian balcony 
 at Roxmoor," he went on, in a dreamy tone, 
 
 " and those strange Italian things of hers " 
 
 He shook his head like one mesmerized, sighing 
 heavily. " It is all so puzzling ! " 
 
 With a rush of horror, Kent saw the descent of 
 something that transformed the man, as much as 
 if another stood in his place. His eye set, and 
 he drove forward with a deathless fixity of pur- 
 pose. Without a break in that furious pace, he 
 kept on until he reached the gate of a cemetery, 
 where he paused, and, standing still, glared
 
 72 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 through the iron bars, his hands clenched upon 
 them. 
 
 Kent came up beside him. He had no knowl- 
 edge of how to deal with Aveling, possessed by 
 his uncanny second self, but decided to risk a 
 question about the child. Before he had time to 
 speak, Aveling turned away, and, without warn- 
 ing, disappeared among the undergrowth beneath 
 the trees. 
 
 Kent stared helplessly at the slight quivering 
 of the bushes that remained, and then, sinking 
 upon the ground, gave himself up to silent 
 laughter. 
 
 " What, in the name of conscience ! " he 
 thought. " Here I am laughing like a hyena, and 
 tears were befitting, I trow. How in time will 
 I find my way home? " 
 
 He lay back on the grass for awhile in deep 
 thought, disturbed by the conviction which clung 
 to him that the child's fate was in the tangle. 
 Ned probably would tell him who she was; no 
 doubt, he could be induced to talk, and they could 
 wring the subject dry together. 
 
 He sprang up, and peered through the gate 
 at the silent graves, but decided not to go in. 
 He must not run the risk of annoying Aveling. 
 He went down the path, seeing no trace of the 
 child, but meeting a small boy, who told him he
 
 A FRESH TRAIL 73 
 
 was within sight of Roxmoor, hidden only by the 
 trees. He walked on, a little astonished. Why 
 had Aveling taken so roundabout a way to reach 
 his goal? 
 
 As he came up the avenue he met his host, who 
 wore an anxious look. " Why, where in the world 
 have you been? " asked Aveling. " We have ran- 
 sacked the place for you." All traces of his re- 
 cent gloom and passion had vanished. 
 
 "Oh! I was just rambling over the country," 
 said Kent gayly. 
 
 " Why didn't you come for me ? I like to walk. 
 Nothing would have suited me better," said Avel- 
 ing reproachfully. 
 
 Kent shot a quick glance at him. Had he for- 
 gotten their walk together? 
 
 " Well, you see," Kent went on, " I am really 
 proud of my bump of locality, and I wanted to 
 know if I had any grounds for pride." 
 
 " Well, did the bump work ? " asked Aveling, 
 looking much amused. 
 
 " Alas, Ned ! It is not a bump. It is a dis- 
 mal plain. I had to hire a small urchin to help 
 me arrive home." 
 
 " Next time let me into your confidence and 
 you won't need any small urchins." And Avel- 
 ing affectionately tucked his hand into Kent's 
 arm. 
 
 As they passed into the house, Kent's hopes
 
 74, THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 fell. Aveling's brow was smooth, his eye untrou- 
 bled; he looked the picture of content and health. 
 But Kent could glean no aid from him about the , 
 child who suddenly loomed so large in Aveling's 
 problem. For events which had passed within 
 the hour had been wiped completely from his mind, 
 as a wet sponge cleans a slate!
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE BIRTHDAY 
 
 WHEN dinner was over, they all went out and 
 walked up and down the terrace. The air was 
 heavy with the scent of potted plants, placed 
 thickly along the brick-paved terrace. Pale flow- 
 ers gleamed in the purple dusk. The rising moon 
 threw a silver glory over the stone fa9ade of the 
 castle. The edge of the battlements overhead cut 
 a jagged line in the dark-blue sky, where the 
 stars were marshalling. 
 
 There was not much conversation. Mrs. Avel- 
 ing was unusually quiet, and Kent was busy with 
 the afternoon's occurrence. Whatever the loss 
 of memory might mean, it at least checked his 
 impulse to question Ned. 
 
 At a word from Aveling, their walk extended 
 out to the avenue, barred with lines of black and 
 silver in the moonlight. Aveling kept up a light 
 flow of talk. Kent's replies were few and absent. 
 Mrs. Aveling soon felt the chill of the evening 
 air, and they turned again to the castle. Kent 
 halted, for a moment, and ran his eye over the 
 old gray walls. The lamplight glowed through 
 
 75
 
 76 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 the casements like shapes of gold and crimson. 
 The cheerful light seemed to sharpen the tang 
 in the air, which spoke of autumn. 
 
 " The winter will soon be on us," said Kent. 
 Aveling did not speak. " Let me see," he went 
 on. " You have a birthday soon, Ned." 
 
 Aveling regarded him with gloomy eyes. " Yes, 
 I have a birthday soon," he said, and, without an- 
 other word, walked into the house. 
 
 A fire was blazing in the Red Parlor when they 
 entered. Mrs. Aveling sat down before it and 
 held up her hands to warm them. She wore a 
 dark dress that fitted closely. Lines of white ran 
 round her neck and wrists. Kent noticed the 
 nervous fineness of her hands as the firelight 
 played over them. As he glanced at her face, half 
 in shadow, it struck him that she had grown thin 
 since he came to England. There was a weary 
 look upon her face and a drooping of her whole 
 figure. She looked passive, almost indifferent, 
 making absent movements, as if in deep reverie. 
 
 Kent turned away. He always had a guilty 
 feeling when he saw her like this. There was 
 something unprotected about her, as if her guard 
 had slipped. He began to examine a small pic- 
 ture on the wall, a water-color sketch of the Ro- 
 man Forum. Aveling had picked up a newspaper. 
 
 " Ned, have you been to Rome ? " asked Kent. 
 
 " No. We have not been out of England.
 
 THE BIRTHDAY ?7 
 
 Why? " The last word had an unexpected sharp- 
 ness. 
 
 " Oh ! I'll have to be trudging along soon. I 
 want to see Rome and Venice before I go home, 
 and thought, perhaps, you could give me some 
 fatherly advice." 
 
 The silence which followed was so impressive 
 that Kent looked in some surprise at Aveling, 
 who burst into a harsh laugh. The newspaper 
 clattered to the floor. 
 
 " Nonsense, nonsense, what are you talking 
 about? " he said brusquely. He was visibly shaken. 
 He got up and stirred the fire, and, after a few 
 restless movements, sat down in his chair. He 
 caught up the newspaper and began deliberately 
 to tear it into fine bits. 
 
 Kent had not moved. He heard a slight rustle 
 of Mrs. Aveling's silk garments. Masking his 
 surprise, he turned to her. She had moved in 
 her chair. All of her apathy had vanished. 
 Every line of her was tense with a helpless dread. 
 Her steady, imploring gaze held him like a mag- 
 net. Her lips were moving, as if she were trying 
 over words. " You mustn't think of going, we 
 expect a long visit." The deadly anxiety in her 
 face did not escape into her voice; it was the 
 usual low, sweet music. The contrast between 
 the two was horrible. It was as if above a grave 
 a child sang.
 
 78 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Kent came forward with an easy swing and 
 dropped into a chair. " Oh, don't flatter your- 
 selves. I shall probably stay for several years," 
 he said carelessly. " I was only about to 'remark, 
 in order to relieve your minds, that I didn't mean 
 to live here." 
 
 But his humorous words found no response in 
 Aveling, whose mood grew irritable. He snatched 
 up the torn paper and put it in the fire, crushing 
 it down among the embers. Kent cast about for 
 a harmless subject of conversation. He glanced 
 at Aveling's spare form outlined by the fire. 
 
 " By the way, Ned, why is this room called 
 the ' Red Parlor ' ? " There was not a single red 
 article in it. 
 
 Aveling started. " How do I know ? " he 
 snapped out. He strode to a curtained doorway, 
 and, dragging the curtains viciously aside, dis- 
 appeared. " Prince of blunderers ! " Kent was 
 saying to himself. 
 
 Mrs. Aveling stepped in front of him. " Have 
 you not noticed the marks upon the wall ? " 
 
 Kent sprang up at the slightly imperious mo- 
 tion of her hand and followed her to the south 
 wall of the room. Here and there were dark-red 
 stains. Mrs. Aveling did not look at Kent. 
 
 " We do not know the meaning of the name," 
 she said. " But we have always felt that it must 
 have some connection with these spots."
 
 THE BIRTHDAY 79 
 
 " Perhaps they are caused by dampness," sug- 
 gested Kent. 
 
 " Nothing seems to affect them." She spoke ab- 
 sently, still regarding the mysterious spots. Kent 
 made a sudden resolution. 
 
 " I am sorry if I annoyed Ned," he said, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 She paled a little. " You will annoy him still 
 more if you talk of going away," with a quick 
 shift of her intent look. There was a return of 
 that still intensity at the fireside. Kent studied 
 the spots. 
 
 " You see, I was meanly calculating a series 
 of visits to Roxmoor," he said. " And I didn't 
 want to become a bore the first tune." 
 
 Mrs. Aveling*s hands began to work. She did 
 not answer. He turned a sharp look upon her. 
 Her manner seemed to invite confidence. 
 
 " Mrs. Aveling, won't you " 
 
 She broke through his words. " No I 
 couldn't think of it. There are so many things 
 we planned to do. Come and I'll tell you all about 
 it." She paused a moment, and then said delib- 
 erately, " Ned has a birthday soon, you know," 
 and led the way to the fireside, talking volubly. 
 Her color had risen and her nervous, flurried 
 movements showed some dread of further ques- 
 tioning. 
 
 In a few moments Kent heard a curtain draw
 
 80 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 aside. He gave no sign, but he knew that Avel- 
 ing had returned and quietly taken a seat. 
 
 " Balked again,'* ran Kent's musing. " Whom 
 can I tackle now? And, above all, who shall tell 
 me why they seem so interested in my staying 
 for that birthday?"
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE MIDDLE AGES 
 
 THE next morning Kent found Aveling on the 
 terrace. 
 
 "* Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head? ' : 
 quoted Aveling, with a laugh. 
 
 " Am I late? " As Kent's glance went upward, 
 he noticed that Aveling's hair was turning gray. 
 The blue shadows about his features sharpened 
 the contrast of his careless mirth. 
 
 " I don't know whether you are late or I am 
 early. It is all in the point of view. I got up 
 and took a gallop across the downs. It's glori- 
 ous out there." 
 
 He looked across the track of his early ride, 
 whistling softly to himself. " Kent, it's a crime 
 to waste such a day as this. I feel a rise of the 
 pagan in me. What do you say to a day in the 
 open, with the birds, and the fishes, and so on? " 
 
 Kent readily agreed, and they set off for a 
 day's fishing in the fine trout streams that tum- 
 bled through the northern border of the manor 
 lands. When they returned, tired and trium- 
 
 81
 
 82 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 phant, at the end of the day, they found Mr. 
 Bateson, the family lawyer. He had come down 
 from London with some things for Aveling's at- 
 tention. Aveling grasped his hand with a quite 
 un-English effusion. His voice rang; he shouted 
 boyishly of the day's sport. Mr. Bateson was 
 plainly amazed. 
 
 Kent looked on with some amusement at the 
 baffled lawyer. He had evidently never seen Avel- 
 ing in good spirits, and they ran unusually high 
 to-night. Even the statuesque servants, deco- 
 rously serving the dinner, were human, as an oc- 
 casional sidelong glance or a quivering muscle 
 showed. Mrs. Aveling looked relieved, as if she 
 had temporarily slipped a weight. She had been 
 in her room all day with a headache, and only 
 left it to appear at dinner, retiring immediately 
 after. Aveling and Mr. Bateson went into the 
 small study where the business concerning the 
 estate was carried on, leaving Kent alone in the 
 Red Parlor. 
 
 He stretched himself out in an armchair, en- 
 joying the sensuous repose after the day's sport. 
 He was thinking of the alarmed confusion which 
 the mere suggestion of his leaving Roxmoor had 
 produced last night in both Aveling and his wife. 
 There was an incomprehensible seriousness about 
 it. It seemed as if his visit were of some im- 
 portance to them. If they wanted his services,
 
 A VOICE FROM THE MIDDLE AGES 83 
 
 why did they not speak plainly about it? Why 
 was there any mystery? 
 
 Aveling's voice broke into his reverie. 
 
 "Here, you jack-o'-dreams, wake up!" 
 
 Kent lazily turned his head. 
 
 " Just stir your wits and talk to Bateson 
 awhile. I must go and see about Aline ;" and he 
 disappeared. The bright, merry face pervaded 
 every corner of Kent's being like soothing oil. 
 
 Mr. Bateson advanced into the room and seated 
 himself opposite Kent. He did not imitate Kent's 
 supine ease, but sat stiffly upon a straight chair 
 and interlaced his fingers. He carried his head 
 with judicial dignity. 
 
 " This is your first visit to England? " with an 
 upward lift of his expressionless voice. 
 
 Kent said it was. He was wondering if it 
 were possible to pump this very dry gentleman. 
 
 " I hope you like our country." There was 
 the faintest possible feeling in his even tones. 
 
 Now, why the deuce does he hope I like his 
 country? thought Kent. He decided to try to 
 pump, anyway. 
 
 " Oh, yes, immensely. But such a short visit 
 as mine doesn't allow me to see much of it." 
 
 The stiff figure became stiffer. 
 
 " I understood you intended to make quite an 
 extended visit quite extended," said Mr. Bate- 
 son, with an apologetic cough.
 
 ft* THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " Well, perhaps it is relatively," said Kent, 
 with elaborate indifference. 
 
 Mr. Bateson coughed again. 
 
 The old bird is warming up, thought Kent, as 
 he saw the dry face opposite kindle with a pur- 
 pose. 
 
 " I shall stay a few weeks, and then go over 
 to the Continent," said Kent lazily. 
 
 Mr. Bateson shifted his position. " Well, I 
 hope you won't go for awhile," with solemn re- 
 flectiveness. " You seem to have done Mr. Avel- 
 ing good." A sharp, meaning glance met Kent's, 
 purposely a little vacant. 
 
 " Done Ned good? Why, how? " he said, lift- 
 ing his head and studying the fire. 
 
 " Mr. Aveling has seemed a little depressed." 
 Bateson waved his hand in deprecation. " It is 
 a great responsibility, and he left many friends, 
 no doubt," he finished blandly. 
 
 " You didn't call him exactly * depressed ' to- 
 night?" 
 
 The lawyer was evidently absorbed by his sur- 
 prise at it. " I never saw him like that before," 
 he said, with unexpected feeling. He met Kent's 
 keen gaze squarely. " Better stay as long as you 
 possibly can, Mr. Kent. Better stay," he re- 
 peated ; " better stay. Mr. Aveling may 
 need " He cleared his throat. 
 
 For a full moment each one gazed into the
 
 A VOICE FROM THE MIDDLE AGES 85 
 
 very soul of the other and saw there things the 
 tongue could not frame. 
 
 Neither one saw the door swing silently ajar; 
 but both leaped from their chairs as a hollow, 
 pompous voice from the Middle Ages broke upon 
 their startled ears. 
 
 "It is meet that I should tell you the hour 
 waxeth late and we must be about betimes when 
 morning breaks. Roxmoor is grim, mayhap, but 
 her battlements and grated doors can promise 
 sleep and rest to those within her walls." 
 
 An imposing figure stood before them. It was 
 Aveling, but overlaid by a power seeking domi- 
 nance, against which he seemed to struggle. Two 
 separate natures warred for mastery of the fa- 
 miliar frame. The harsh, deep tones seemed 
 rusty from long disuse. The glitter in his eyes 
 appalled the two silent men. He turned about. 
 "What, ho, without!" 
 
 Bateson glanced hurriedly around. Aveling's 
 back was turned; his pompous dignity and sono- 
 rous call charged the very air with a current of 
 antique flavor. Bateson put out a long, stealthy 
 hand and rang the bell. In a few moments a serv- 
 ant appeared in the doorway. A flash went over 
 his face, instantly suppressed. He listened to 
 his weird orders. 
 
 Kent studied the impassive servant. This ap- 
 parition was not new to him. He turned to Bate-
 
 86 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 son, the dry, quizzical face was watching him. 
 Bateson shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to 
 extend his conversation of the early evening. 
 
 They now became aware that Aveling was bid- 
 ding them a most stately good-night. There was 
 nothing to do but go, bent by the wind of that 
 imperious compounding of personalities. Mr. 
 Bateson gave Kent a most penetrating look as 
 they separated in the corridor. " Better stay, 
 Mr. Kent. Better stay." His thin figure melted 
 away in the gloom. 
 
 Kent went on to his room ; but he halted on the 
 threshold, and, after a moment's hesitation, 
 turned and swiftly retraced his steps, knocking at 
 Mr. Bateson's door. It was presently opened and 
 the small, dry face of the lawyer looked out. 
 
 " I came to ask why, Mr. Bateson, you think 
 I'd better stay." 
 
 Bateson threw the door wide open. " I think 
 I can give you the most urgent reason," he said. 
 " Come in."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A TALE OF FATE 
 
 " ARE you a man of courage, Mr. Kent? " 
 
 This rather unexpected question produced a 
 slight smile. " I don't think I ever considered 
 the matter," said Kent. " But it's safe to say 
 that I am not easily knocked about." 
 
 Bateson did not immediately go on, and Kent 
 spoke again. " Does it require any notable cour- 
 age?" 
 
 Bateson nodded. " I think so," he gravely re- 
 plied, asking with a sudden change of tone, " Do 
 you know anything of Roxmoor's history ? " 
 
 " Scarcely anything. It was never of any in- 
 terest to me until I came here and found Aveling 
 entangled in it. In fact, I had a rather close 
 brush with the mystery the very first night I came. 
 At least, it is a mystery to me. I suppose there 
 is something in the family archives to explain 
 it." 
 
 " Not to our satisfaction. We know nothing 
 of the reason for the doom of Roxmoor," he said, 
 with solemn emphasis. 
 
 87
 
 88 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Kent looked up sharply. "Doom?" he re- 
 peated. 
 
 " It is an ugly word," said Bateson, " and yet 
 the only one which fitly describes the strange story 
 of the Avelings. For it is a weird tale of Fate, 
 which neither man nor time can placate, a grim 
 and awful destiny which mocks with swelling 
 coffers the slow crushing of a House." 
 
 The solemn words had an ominous meaning, 
 which dazed Kent for a moment. " Is there any 
 danger threatening Ned? " he asked incredulously. 
 
 " A very grave and serious danger." 
 
 "Connected, I presume, with his strange 
 spells." 
 
 Bateson nodded. " It is there the danger lies. 
 I will go back a little. The prosperity of the 
 Aveling family began in the time of Henry IV. 
 The Lord Aveling of that period was a pious 
 man of great influence, and from his day the fam- 
 ily was rich and powerful. In the colonial era 
 a younger son went to America and founded that 
 branch of the family. Why he left home is not 
 quite clear. But it is fair to assume that he was 
 not unmindful of the blight that crept slowly 
 across the manor. For, some time before he 
 crossed the sea, a tradition of ill-luck had been 
 imported into the family history, the black fruit 
 of the unmistakable disaster which befell the 
 Avelings."
 
 A TALE OF FATE 89 
 
 " Loss of fortune, do you mean ? " 
 
 " Quite the contrary. For this ill-luck had a 
 curious limitation. It did not extend beyond the 
 lives of the hapless Avelings. The ancient lands 
 and wealth remained untouched. Indeed, the 
 family possessions increased at a pace that called 
 wondering attention to the fast diminishing hold- 
 ers of it. It was remarked by every one that 
 their lives grew shorter; while, under the growth 
 of modern science, the average mortal span has 
 lengthened." 
 
 " And was there no reason for this ? " Kent 
 asked. 
 
 " None whatever. The place is healthy, there 
 has always been ample wealth, and no wearing 
 responsibility." 
 
 He paused a moment, and then went on: 
 
 " It is one thing to die in the fulness of years 
 or for some reason of physical unfitness. But to 
 be submerged in a period of gloom and snatched 
 away in mysterious death is a destiny to test the 
 courage even of a man like Mr. Aveling ! " 
 
 " Death? " ejaculated Kent. 
 
 " Yes. For a terrible isolation is set upon 
 the master of Roxmoor. The heir who succeeds 
 is seen to become pale and spiritless and fade 
 slowly out of existence. Unless, in the course of 
 time, he meets a quicker and more mysterious 
 end."
 
 90 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Kent was staring at Bateson. " I don't un- 
 derstand," he said thickly. " How can Aveling 
 die? He is young, and in perfect health. You 
 surely are under some mistake." 
 
 " Mr. Kent, as soon as the allotted time has 
 passed, Mr. Aveling will die. There is no help 
 for him. Seven times in seven years I have seen 
 the master of Roxmoor laid away." 
 
 Kent started forward, grasping his chair. 
 " You must be mistaken," he said, with white, set 
 lips. 
 
 " There is no room to be mistaken," said Bate- 
 son solemnly. " The fatal change set in at once. 
 I know it sounds like a fantastic dream, but, when 
 I took the message to Mr. Aveling, I was shocked 
 to see the alteration printed on his careless face. 
 There came at once faint foreshadowings of the 
 familiar change which made this strange face like 
 the well-known ones I had seen grow dark and 
 sphinx-like in the shadows of Roxmoor. I started 
 for the steamer, horrified and shaken. For I have 
 been long in the family councils, but never be- 
 fore has the doom of Roxmoor taken such fear- 
 ful strides." 
 
 Kent's attention was riveted on the old law- 
 yer's face as he proceeded with his tale. 
 
 " This was sufficiently alarming. But the 
 ominous change had grown with hideous rapidity 
 when I saw, some days after his arrival here, what,
 
 A TALE OF FATE 91 
 
 to my startled eyes, appeared to be the late mas- 
 ter of Roxmoor rising to greet me in the sombre 
 splendor of the great library. The face I thought 
 was dead lived before me in strange immortality." 
 
 " But what does it mean? " gasped Kent. 
 
 " It means extinction for the house of Avel- 
 ing. What fate presides over their tragic destiny, 
 I do not know. But their doom is fixed, for Mr. 
 Aveling is far upon the fatal way, and with him 
 the race dies." 
 
 Kent sat huddled together, gray-faced and si- 
 lent. Bateson's words sent a searching light over 
 the mysterious conduct of Aveling's friends. The 
 doom of Roxmoor was accepted without question 
 by them all, and they were apparently waiting in 
 sorrowful acquiescence for the end. 
 
 But Kent was not of that mould. There was 
 a stubborn resolution carved upon his still face. 
 " You think that Mr. Aveling's case is hopeless? " 
 he said, in set tones. 
 
 The lawyer bent his head. 
 
 " Have you no theories to offer? " Kent's 
 voice was gathering depth and passion. 
 
 Bateson spread out his hands. " There are 
 the facts. I do not care to go beyond them." 
 
 " Do you mean to let him die without a blow? " 
 
 " I am ready to give him any aid, but none 
 lies within my line of vision. I have grown old 
 in their service and have found, through many
 
 92 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 years, that we can only wait for an inevitable 
 end." 
 
 Kent suddenly rose to his feet. " Well, that 
 may seem to be wise and right to you. I quarrel 
 with no one in such a matter. But for me? I 
 refuse to follow the old tradition. With your 
 help, if it may be, without, if it must be, I mean 
 to know the reason for Roxmoor's doom." 
 
 A slight relaxation played about the lawyer's 
 carefully drilled features. " What do you pro- 
 pose to do ? " he quietly asked. 
 
 " I haven't the least idea. But this terrible 
 result must have some cause, and I mean to find 
 it." 
 
 Bateson fixed a pair of keen eyes on the young 
 man's resolute face, and, for a moment, he might 
 have seemed to doubt that the well-known fate 
 of Roxmoor could hold dominion against such an 
 indomitable will. But his words destroyed the il- 
 lusion. He spoke with a kind of sternness. " The 
 Maker of the universe saw fit to give to every 
 man empire over his destiny, and no one will 
 withhold you now. But it is only fair to put 
 within your grasp the power to knowingly choose 
 your fate. You may not be aware of the danger 
 which interference brings. Let me just hint, 
 it might be possible for a too rash courage to 
 share Mr. Aveling's fate," he said meaningly. 
 
 Kent looked steadily into the keen face; and
 
 93 
 
 then, rising to all his superb height, he hurled his 
 defiance to the wild fates handling Aveling's des- 
 tiny : " Neither things visible nor invisible shall 
 hinder me. Whatever his destiny has been, I have 
 always shared it. Whatever it may be, I am will- 
 ing to share it still, for I'll travel in league with 
 devils, if need be, to rescue a man whose life I 
 hold dearer than my own ! "
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THIBTY-FIVE ! 
 
 WHEN Kent descended to the Red Parlor the 
 next morning, they were all waiting for him. The 
 lawyer's dry reserve made him more remote than 
 ever. Mrs. Aveling, although a little pale, had 
 recovered, and Aveling was in good spirits. There 
 was another interview between the master of the 
 house and Bateson, while Kent was left to his 
 own communings. 
 
 His thoughts returned at once to the conversa- 
 tion with Mr. Bateson, with a sense of horror 
 scarcely less than the first shock. But, in spite 
 of this mysterious recital, he felt fresh hope. He 
 had, at least, solid ground beneath him. Ned's 
 alterations betokened a real and threatening crisis 
 in Roxmoor's history, which, judging from Mrs. 
 Aveling's words, had some close connection with 
 the Italian Wing. Kent sprang to his feet, 
 anxious to contrive a search of those closed 
 rooms. Aveling was safely entangled with Bate- 
 son. It might be possible to make the visit now 
 without discovery. 
 
 94
 
 THIRTY-FIVE! 95 
 
 He slipped cautiously up the stairs. By some 
 happening the locked door through which he had 
 been taken the first day stood open, and Kent 
 went through. He walked through several cor- 
 ridors, rambling on until he found himself in 
 a hallway he did not recognize. He carefully 
 reconnoitred the passage. His thoughts were in- 
 terrupted by the sound of footsteps rattling down 
 the corridor, the swift feet of a man in deadly 
 haste. Kent withdrew into a corner as Aveling 
 sped by. His deathly pallor utterly changed 
 him. He was breathing heavily and labored for 
 a hastier progress. Mr. Bateson, carrying an 
 unlighted taper in his hand, followed at a dis- 
 creet distance. Both men were gone in an in- 
 stant. Kent started hastily forward, catching a 
 glimpse of Mr. Bateson in the distance. But 
 they were lost again to view by another turn in 
 the corridor, and Kent gave up the hopeless pur- 
 suit. He returned to the Red Parlor, pondering 
 the significance of Aveling's quest, which he con- 
 jectured must end in the Italian Wing. He did 
 not have a chance to speak to Mr. Bateson alone 
 again, but, when the lawyer took his leave, Kent 
 saw that entreaty, " Better stay ! " 
 
 The day the old lawyer departed a fit of low- 
 ered spirits descended upon Aveling. It appeared 
 there had been some stir ring-up of musty family 
 records in their interviews, something connected
 
 96 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 with the Italian Wing. In two days Aveling was 
 a changed man. Life and volition seemed to de- 
 part together. Mrs. Aveling redoubled her 
 watchfulness. In his relaxed condition a cold, of 
 unusual severity, developed, and Dr. Warren was 
 summoned. Kent, by chance, passed him in the 
 hall, where he was depositing his hat and gloves. 
 There was more than professional dignity in the 
 grave, concerned face he wore. " Oh, Mr. Kent, 
 where will I find you when I come down? I 
 thought you might like to hear of Mr. Aveling." 
 
 Kent admired his Oriental calm. " I will be 
 here," he returned, from the doorway of the Red 
 Parlor. The doctor mounted the stairs. 
 
 " Now, what do you suppose he wants to ask 
 me, or tell me, or whatever is the object of his 
 inquisitorial activity? " Kent asked of a bronze 
 sphinx, glimmering in a dusky corner. The sphinx 
 returned no answer, and Kent was obliged to wait 
 for the advent of the doctor, who presently en- 
 tered the room with his stooping gait. 
 
 " Mr. Aveling's cold is not so severe as I ex- 
 pected to find it," he observed, as he took a 
 seat. 
 
 " And Mr. Aveling? " 
 
 "Well, Mr. Aveling has not enjoyed good 
 health since he came to England." He stopped 
 abruptly. "Was he a well man in America? " 
 
 " Perfectly well, always."
 
 THIRTY-FIVE! 97 
 
 The doctor nodded gravely. 
 
 " How old is Mr. Aveling? " he asked, after 
 a pause, leaning toward Kent. 
 
 '* Let me see " Kent ran over a few dates. 
 
 " Thirty-five." 
 
 Dr. Warren's grave face became stern. Some 
 unaccountable impulse prompted Kent. " How 
 old was the late master of Roxmoor? " 
 
 " Thirty-five." 
 
 Something forced him on, some awful chill 
 of the soul. "And the heir before?" 
 
 " Thirty-five." 
 
 Kent's blood began to freeze. Dr. Warren 
 answered his next unspoken question. " They all 
 die at thirty-five ! " 
 
 The death-bells boomed in Kent's ears. Dr. 
 Warren's face grew old. 
 
 " Of what did the late Mr. Aveling die? " asked 
 Kent's husky voice. 
 
 " He was found dead." 
 
 " In bed? " 
 
 " No, in the picture gallery." There was the 
 faintest expectation in his voice. " Have you 
 seen the gallery ? " 
 
 "No, I have not." 
 
 Dr. Warren's face twitched a little. He inter- 
 locked his fingers. " There is a portrait of an 
 ancestor, dressed in the robes of a Knight Tem- 
 plar, hanging there. Mr. Aveling was found lying
 
 98 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 beneath it." There was something horrible to 
 Kent in his cool precision. 
 
 "Did you say that Mr. Aveling is exactly 
 thirty-five? " The quiet face gleamed with keen 
 interest. 
 
 " No. He will be thirty-five on the first day 
 of November." 
 
 The doctor nodded. The Fates drove hard! 
 
 A blinding light suddenly broke over Kent. He 
 started up in tense interest. " Where is the gal- 
 lery situated, Dr. Warren? " 
 
 "In the Italian Wing!"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE PICTURE GALLEEY 
 
 KENT was stupefied and failed to notice Dr. 
 Warren's keen survey. He looked up startled as 
 the doctor sharply spoke his name. 
 
 " Mr. Kent, I feel that I have a duty to you, 
 as well as to the master of Roxmoor. Bateson 
 tells me that you mean to interfere between Mr. 
 Aveling and his fate." He came to an abrupt 
 pause. 
 
 " I certainly shall," said Kent cheerfully. 
 
 " Then I must use my authority to stop you." 
 
 " Me ! Keep me from helping Aveling ! Why, 
 man, there is nothing born of woman that can 
 stop me." 
 
 " It is a sin to throw your life away," said Dr. 
 Warren. " Mr. Aveling is doomed, and to ven- 
 ture too far with him is merely to step into the 
 gulf." 
 
 " Step in ! Why, I mean to jump in, if 
 it's necessary." 
 
 Dr. Warren bent a long, troubled gaze upon 
 him. " I admire your wonderful courage, but I 
 
 99
 
 100 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 must insist. I shall alarm your American friends, 
 unless you will be more cautious." 
 
 Kent pulled himself up. " Dr. Warren, keep 
 the cable hot clean around the world. Summon 
 every respectable Kent you can lay your hands 
 on. But not even the sainted dead can shake my 
 resolution." 
 
 Dr. Warren gave him an astonished look. 
 " Have you no regard for the sacredness of hu- 
 man life ? " he sternly asked. 
 
 " Yes too much to see Aveling lost," Kent 
 stubbornly returned. 
 
 " But no one can save Mr. Aveling. It is a 
 fatality nothing can avert," said Dr. Warren, 
 with a touch of impatience. 
 
 "I can't agree with that," said Kent. "I 
 have given the subject the deepest consideration 
 and gone searchingly into the facts, and I sol- 
 emnly tell you Aveling can be saved." 
 
 " Surely you misapprehend the situation," ex- 
 claimed Dr. Warren. " You cannot help Mr. 
 Aveling. You'll only compass your own destruc- 
 tion." 
 
 " If you'll shift your point of view, you'll see 
 what I mean. I believe we are on the verge of 
 discovery," said Kent, with deep feeling. 
 
 Dr. Warren glanced sharply at him. " Why ? " 
 
 " Aveling declares the power upon him to be 
 a personality. Now it is not difficult to contrive
 
 THE PICTURE GALLERY 101 
 
 one. I have, for instance, built one out of some 
 observations of my own; the sinister face which 
 I saw twice; the guilty conscience which chained 
 Aveling one night in the little chapel; the mem- 
 ory of religious pilgrimage I roused by playing 
 an old song, and some personal experiences of my 
 own. All these things lie within the scope of one 
 personality, and, when I know his name, I'll strike 
 the trail that leads out." 
 
 Dr. Warren was regarding him with an anxious 
 face. " You puzzle me, Mr. Kent. No one has 
 ever before tried to deal with these things in this 
 way." 
 
 " That is where I hope for success. I have a 
 theory to hang my facts upon; that is why they 
 seemed insignificant before." 
 
 " And what is your theory ? " asked Dr. War- 
 ren, with a lift of interest. 
 
 " That we are on the borders of another world 
 in this mystery of Aveling's." 
 
 Dr. Warren discreetly lowered his eyes. " You 
 believe that it is the dead trying for communica- 
 tion?" 
 
 " With as much conviction as I believe in my 
 own existence." 
 
 " And what is your ground for this disturb- 
 ing belief? " he said, in tones of disapproval. 
 
 " I have no grounds in logic or experience. 
 But the known and tangible can furnish no relief
 
 102 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 for this strange situation at Roxmoor. And, as 
 the universe is governed by law to its smallest 
 atom, I mean to invade the world enclosed within 
 these physical facts, for there, I believe, are forged 
 the fetters that bind Aveling." 
 
 Dr. Warren fell back in his chair, regarding 
 Kent with an expression of mingled belief and 
 doubt. " Young man, from what well of miracles 
 do you draw such wonderful draughts of inspira- 
 tion? I can feel myself, old as I am, tingle with 
 hope for a man I know is doomed." 
 
 Kent's face lit. " Come with us," he said 
 gently, " and we will show you miracles and prove 
 your hope." 
 
 Dr. Warren sighed heavily and looked down. 
 
 " Frankly, I would stop you if I could ; but 
 your young blood overpowers my slow caution. I 
 can only earnestly counsel you to warn your 
 friends." 
 
 *' I am grateful for your interest in me," Kent 
 returned, " but I think we'll let the Kents rest 
 in peace. For some reason I feel impelled to 
 believe that Ned's chief mission in the world is 
 to break this ancient spell, and perhaps a gen- 
 erous fate allows me to share his triumph. I shall 
 not alarm my friends, but I do most earnestly ask 
 your help." 
 
 After a moment Dr. Warren, with a movement 
 of rare impulsiveness, held out his hand. " You
 
 THE PICTURE GALLERY 103 
 
 rouse some strange confidence that you may be 
 right. I cannot follow you ; I belong to an older 
 generation. But I'll help you as far as my pow- 
 ers take me." 
 
 With a feeling of cheer and hope, Kent began 
 a close watch for the unseen personality that hung 
 over Aveling. September went out wet and cold, 
 and the weather settled down in a steady drizzle 
 that shut the small circle within the gray walls 
 of Roxmoor. One afternoon Mrs. Aveling sat 
 busy, apparently, with some sewing. Aveling, 
 stretched at full length in an easy-chair by the 
 window, looked out at the blurred landscape. 
 Everything was wet and dripping. His discon- 
 solate mood broke into words. " Did you ever 
 see anything more dreary than that? " he re- 
 marked. 
 
 " Do you know, I have the queer taste to like 
 a rainy day," said Kent, joining him at the win- 
 dow. " See what a delicate mixture of color 
 there is, hues of lilac and green and here and 
 there touches of gold and flame." 
 
 Something about Aveling seemed feebly to re- 
 spond to his words. He noticed it, and went on : 
 
 " Now, look at those rolling banks of fog and 
 fancy a gray tapestry." 
 
 Kent felt something like the touched string of 
 a violin as he spoke. Aveling's discontent was 
 fading.
 
 104. THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " The trees and shrubbery lose their form. One 
 might fancy them to be nymphs and fauns." 
 
 The gleam of a new mood peeped out from 
 Aveling's changing face, like a wild thing watch- 
 ing. He closed his eyes and sank into his chair. 
 
 " Do you suppose those old tapestry-makers 
 got ideas from things like these ? " he said dream- 
 ily, as if in slumber. He settled still further into 
 his chair, his eyelashes swept his cheeks. He did 
 not answer when Kent bent over and anxiously 
 called his name. His eyes unclosed after a min- 
 ute or two had passed and he sat up, looking 
 about as if perplexed. He rose and took a step 
 forward, wavering uncertainly, and then seemed 
 to fall into the rhythm of some onward move- 
 ment. He started for the stairway with jerky 
 motions. 
 
 What what have I done? thought Kent, in 
 despair. He saw that Mrs. Aveling had risen. 
 A spool rolled from her lap and crashed against 
 the woodwork. Aveling did not notice. He went 
 on. Mrs. Aveling's face was ghastly, the tokens 
 of the inevitable were upon it. She turned to 
 Kent. With a slight motion of her head toward 
 the toiling figure halfway up the stairs, she di- 
 rected a meaning look at him. He understood 
 and followed Aveling. As he sprang up the stairs 
 his last glimpse left her still standing, her hands 
 dropped at her side. There was something about
 
 THE PICTURE GALLERY 105 
 
 her that spelled disaster. He remembered, with 
 a thrill, that this might be the fulfilment of 
 his own prediction that they were on the verge 
 of a revelation. 
 
 He followed Aveling, watching closely the steps 
 that grew steadily more assured. They passed up 
 the wide staircase and along the corridors, strik- 
 ing off into the old, main portion of the castle, 
 now seldom visited. The ceilings grew lower, the 
 faded decorations and battered carvings were or- 
 nate, until Kent realized that they were approach- 
 ing the Wing occupied by the lonely Italian. 
 Aveling applied a key to one of the doors. In- 
 stead of the rusty movement of unused hinges, it 
 swung easily under Aveling's touch, as if fre- 
 quently opened. As he pushed the door shut after 
 they passed through, Kent noticed the shifting, 
 dull fire in his face. It was not the subdued pas- 
 sion that so often swayed him, but a brooding, 
 haunted reminiscence. 
 
 The apartment in which they stood must have 
 been flooded with sunshine in good weather. Even 
 the mists straggled through the southern windows 
 with an effect of gray sunshine, tempered by the 
 silence within the room, and mute evidences of 
 bygone splendor. Aveling moved on to the south- 
 ern wall of the room, and Kent saw the train of 
 association his chance words had touched. 
 
 They stood before a magnificent tapestry of
 
 106 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Italian make. Aveling ran his eyes over the med- 
 ley of tints and contours. There was joy in the 
 kindling face that explored the half-barbarous, 
 sylvan life portrayed, colors and forms blent 
 by the art of a country at its best; Italy, with 
 every resource in her grasp, weaving the fabric 
 of a rich and splendid dream. 
 
 Aveling began to speak in a low, hurried mono- 
 tone, invocations to powers invisible. He moved 
 restlessly on, pausing before a window, a nicked 
 statue, a picture hanging in the half-lights, only 
 to take up again his unresting, onward march. 
 Kent noticed that his movements were erratic, as 
 of a person endeavoring to find a hidden portal 
 and meeting failure. Instead of a battle against 
 invasion, the aspect his struggle so often wore, 
 it seemed like the uncertain motion of one who 
 seeks. 
 
 They passed through the various rooms of the 
 suite, until Aveling turned into the dim light of 
 a bedroom, pausing before a picture sunk in the 
 wall. An ancient curtain, swept to one side, in- 
 dicated that the sight of it was sometimes painful 
 to a pair of eyes long since vanished. On a shelf 
 beneath several tall candlesticks bore the traces 
 of burnt-out candles, which, together with the 
 crucifix and rosary that lay beside them, gave 
 the place the appearance of a shrine. 
 
 As Kent stepped to Aveling's side he became
 
 THE PICTURE GALLERY 107 
 
 conscious of a thrill, as if a strong, magnetic 
 current exhaled from the person at his side. 
 There was a subtle, yet cutting, impress of a pow- 
 erful personality, as of one richly endowed with 
 powers seldom grasped by the small circle of one 
 human soul. Aveling was drinking in the pic- 
 ture on the wall with the eagerness of a man 
 gazing upon the treasure of his life. 
 
 Kent endeavored to follow that eagle gaze, but 
 the dim nimbus of shade that hung round the pic- 
 ture allowed nothing more than the assurance 
 of its being a woman's portrait. A long string 
 of pearls, a soft-brown head, the gleaming column 
 of a white throat, and a sweep of white drapery 
 were all that the blurred and faded canvas gave 
 up to the most searching gaze. 
 
 Kent forebore to rupture Aveling's abstraction. 
 But, to his relief, a long-drawn sigh fell from 
 him. He watched to see the cloud fall. Avel- 
 ing ran his hand across his forehead and, turn- 
 ing, glared upon Kent with unseeing eyes, moving 
 past him noiseless as a shadow. 
 
 Now his movements dropped their indecision. 
 With rapid motions he drove back through the 
 echoing rooms, turning corners so abruptly that 
 several times he struck the wall. Once his head 
 crashed against a projecting screen. Kent sup- 
 pressed a cry with difficulty; but Aveling failed 
 to notice it. He was moving eagerly toward an
 
 108 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 open door, and passed through without a pause. 
 Kent followed, halting on the threshold, for, to 
 his stupefaction, it was the picture gallery. 
 
 When Kent entered the room he saw that to 
 one side, still as one of the painted women on the 
 wall, waited Mrs. Aveling. She stood to one side 
 of Aveling's path, who drove on, unnoticing, com- 
 ing to a standstill before a portrait of a woman. 
 With all the difference made by the flood of light 
 enveloping it, Kent could see that it was the 
 counterpart of the one hanging in the deserted 
 chamber. The dimly-seen drapery was a bril- 
 liant robe of white, touched with bands of gold 
 and rose. The white throat gained light from 
 the strings of lustrous pearls. The brown head 
 was a glory of dull gold, and the pure oval of the 
 delicate face was but a setting for the wide, deep 
 eyes which carried in their depths the charm of 
 the Mona Lisa. 
 
 But what was the other magnetic current flow- 
 ing from them? In what fair dream had he seen 
 eyes like that? Eyes that in an earlier time were 
 but the promise of which these were the fulfil- 
 ment. 
 
 Kent, lost in wonder, approached still closer. 
 But the baffling mystery receded from his touch, 
 as a form of mist eludes the grasp. He fell back 
 a step. His eye turned to sweep the canvas next 
 to it A tall, bold figure of a -man, magnificently
 
 THE PICTURE GALLERY 109 
 
 proportioned, clad in the robes of a Knight Tem- 
 plar, with the mien and bearing of a man bent 
 on holy things. Kent's eye went upward, and 
 through the mists of time and distance, with the 
 shadow of a mystery, stood forth the image of his 
 boyhood friend. From the high, polished brow 
 swept back a curving mass of hair, the crest of 
 it just touched with white, as if a swiftly passing 
 motion had robbed its color. Kent recoiled as he 
 met a pair of glittering, demoniac eyes, in which 
 lurked a cowering spirit, fearfully stained by some 
 dark experience, yet strangely hallowed by the 
 flight of time and the consecration of scourge and 
 fast and vigil. 
 
 Startled, he turned about. Down Aveling's 
 face trickled a thin stream of blood, lending to 
 his countenance a horror that removed him to 
 a strange age and place. Some cosmic flash 
 seemed to place on Aveling's head the blow meant 
 for that guilty face upon the canvas. 
 
 " Good God, man ! Is it you ? " Kent's fear- 
 ful whisper broke up Aveling's death-like quiet. 
 A sudden fury flamed over him. He raised a pair 
 of clenched hands and darted forward. There 
 was murder written in every line of him. 
 
 Like a flash of light, Mrs. Aveling moved be- 
 tween them and, facing Aveling, raised her hand. 
 Her resolute poise carried a command that 
 pierced his lost self. His fury sank, he stood fas-
 
 110 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 cinated, shivering. Mrs. Aveling turned and 
 pointed to the door, her eyes on Kent: 
 
 Kent looked anxiously at her stricken face. 
 
 "Can't I help you? I - " 
 
 Her hand still pointed to the door. Her lips 
 moved, but only the commanding eyes said " Go." 
 Kent went out and softly closed the door.
 
 CHAPTER XVH 
 
 THE SECOND PEBSON 
 
 KENT spent the next day alone, vainly won- 
 dering what secret those silent rooms upstairs had 
 witnessed since they closed upon the stricken 
 couple yesterday. He was in the Red Parlor 
 just before the dinner hour, turning over a pile 
 of magazines, when Mrs. Aveling came in. She 
 looked paler than ever in the ivory-tinted dinner 
 gown she wore. There was a chain of dull gold 
 about her slender throat, from which hung an 
 amethyst cross. Her careful toilette seemed a 
 ghastly mockery. There was a straining of her 
 eggshell outlines. Her eyes were deeper and 
 more shadowy than ever. But, for the first time, 
 Kent caught the sense of appeal to him appeal 
 for aid. How gladly he would help that 
 brave, young heart of hers, if only he knew 
 how. 
 
 " I am afraid you have been quite dull to-day," 
 she said, in low, sweet tones. " Edward has," 
 she searched for a word, " has been ill." 
 
 Kent ventured to be a little pressing. 
 
 " Are you doing right, Mrs. Aveling, to keep 
 111
 
 112 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 an old friend away, when he is ill? They say 
 I am a good nurse," he added gently. 
 
 He could not fathom the deep look that sprang 
 upon him like a live thing. 
 
 " I don't know what to do," she said pite- 
 ously, her hands clasped tightly together. She 
 looked childish and helpless, a pathetic con- 
 trast to the commanding figure that held in 
 check the fury of Aveling's passion in the old 
 gallery. 
 
 " Has he had the doctor? " asked Kent, un- 
 certain what next to say. 
 
 " No, he doesn't need the doctor." Her words 
 ended in a painful pause. Didn't need the doc- 
 tor? Then Aveling was not ill. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Aveling, if you will let an old 
 friend help, perhaps we can do much." 
 
 " He reads too much he thinks too much," she 
 said, with sudden emphasis. " Don't you think it 
 is injurious to read too much? " Her eyes fairly 
 burned into Kent's. A slight flush sprang upon 
 her cheeks, which, together with the unnaturally 
 brilliant eyes above them, gave her face a star- 
 ing fixity. 
 
 Kent sank back, baffled. There was something 
 in her look that chilled his blood; because he re- 
 alized that, for some reason, she could not put 
 in words the thing that gnawed at her. And yet 
 every line of her begged, implored his aid.
 
 THE SECOND PERSON 113 
 
 She started violently, her whole being shivered. 
 " Hush ! He is coming." 
 
 Kent had not heard a sound, but for several 
 minutes neither one moved. The door swung 
 noiselessly ajar, and through it emerged the very 
 counterpart of the figure Kent had seen enclosed 
 within the darkened frame upon the gallery walls. 
 The Templar garb, the austere mien, the slight 
 touch of white upon the wavy hair, as if a hand 
 had swept across it and left its impress. 
 
 Kent, with a curious repulsion, met his gaze, 
 and then fell back in horror. The personality 
 for which he had so unweariedly searched glittered 
 from the steady eyes bent upon him, for the Avel- 
 ing Kent knew had utterly vanished!
 
 CHAPTER XVin 
 
 A BROKEN SILENCE 
 
 THE following afternoon Kent vainly racked 
 the old manor-house for entertainment. Except 
 for the brief appearance of Mrs. Aveling at 
 breakfast, he had been alone the entire day, and 
 time dragged by interminably dull and dreary. 
 A lassitude had fallen on him that neutralized 
 every enjoyment, and, after vain efforts spent on 
 books and music, he stepped outside. The sky 
 was dull and lowering, a fine drizzle fell at 
 intervals. 
 
 After an aimless turn about the damp court- 
 yard, he sought shelter in a small portico which 
 overlooked a considerable portion of the garden 
 and gave a somewhat novel view of the castle. 
 Kent dropped heavily into a chair and stared into 
 the foggy distance. 
 
 All the happenings since the day of his arrival 
 passed before his mind like scenes at a play. The 
 first shock of Aveling's changed face; the strange 
 transformation which befell Aveling on reaching 
 Roxmoor, and his weird disappearance, followed 
 by the elusive chain of events which culminated, 
 114
 
 A BROKEN SILENCE 115 
 
 step by step, in last night's astounding revela- 
 tion. For so it stood in Kent's mind as the key 
 to occurrences which otherwise seemed like the 
 vagaries of a disordered brain. His expectations 
 had been fully carried out. Aveling was not 
 merely under the spell of an historic place, nor 
 was he the victim of a senseless curse. He was 
 dominated by a person, and that a man defined 
 in last night's ghastly change as one of the an- 
 cient lords of Roxmoor. 
 
 In taking leave of commonly accepted belief 
 about Roxmoor's doom, Kent cut himself aloof 
 from much friendly aid and counsel. All of Avel- 
 ing's friends heard of Kent's theories with stoic 
 disregard. This he did not greatly mind. But 
 it was necessary to secure Ned's co-operation at 
 this point, and he knew no way to set about it. 
 He must know something more than Bateson told 
 him about the Lord Aveling who chose so strange 
 a method of return. For this was clearly not an 
 ordinary case of double consciousness. It bore a 
 deeper significance than the shifting of the ele- 
 ments of personality. It was the intrusion of 
 another man for a purpose; and in that motive, 
 Kent believed, lay the explanation of the whole 
 phenomenon. 
 
 So much was clear in the mystery before him. 
 For once admit the possibility of a soul's return, 
 some reasonable motive for such a weird reversal
 
 116 THE MAN* WHO REAPS 
 
 of life's events must exist; and this motive could 
 have its beginning only in the dead man's life. 
 No one seemed able to provide him with any use- 
 ful information, for Bateson's knowledge was en- 
 closed within the hard shell of his own traditions, 
 and the facts he gave were so colored by his own 
 beliefs as to be useless. Aveling was his only 
 resource, and how to open up the subject with 
 him was a matter which caused Kent much pain- 
 ful reflection. Aveling kept up a steady, un- 
 moved reserve, and Kent was unable to calculate 
 the dangers of forcing him to speech or the 
 chances of convincing him that his, Kent's, serv- 
 ices could be of use. 
 
 The stream of his ruminations changed their 
 course, for he began to notice that his eye shifted 
 continually to a glass door which opened upon 
 the garden not far away. He wondered if any- 
 thing were going on in the old gray pile at his 
 back, and started up with a half-formed resolu- 
 tion to go in. But as he moved the door showed 
 a streak of black down the side, which widened 
 until Aveling's form appeared. He passed 
 through and closed it noiselessly. Then he 
 stepped down to the ground and, with the swift, 
 serpentine motion Kent knew so well, glided down 
 a winding pathway and disappeared beneath the 
 arched entrance to a moss-grown tower that stood 
 some distance away from the main structure. It
 
 A BROKEN SILENCE 117 
 
 was a ghostly place, much frequented by bats and 
 owls, and bore a tradition of a hapless monk con- 
 fined there during the Middle Ages, previous to 
 being burned at the stake. It was said to re- 
 sound with groans and wails, and the spirit of 
 the old monk walked at midnight. 
 
 Kent studied carefully its crumbling walls and 
 the narrow slits of windows, shut in with iron 
 gratings. An impulse to follow Aveling came 
 to him. Just at that moment the door behind 
 him was flung violently open, and Mrs. Aveling, 
 with flushed face and dishevelled garments, came 
 through. She stopped at sight of Kent, with a 
 sharp exclamation: "Where is Ned? I know 
 
 something has happened to him " She broke 
 
 off in a sob. 
 
 " He is all right ; don't be frightened," said 
 Kent soothingly. " He went into the tower just 
 a moment ago with a book under his arm." 
 
 She glanced across to the ancient tower; a 
 hungry yearning warped her face. She leaned 
 wearily against the wall. " I fell asleep I was 
 so tired and, when I woke, he was gone." She 
 trembled like a leaf as she put up a hand to 
 brush back a stray lock of hair hanging over 
 her face. 
 
 " You needn't worry, he is all right." Kent 
 repeated the words. 
 
 She looked piteousljj at him. " I never let him
 
 118 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 out of my sight." The tears welled up and rolled 
 silently over her white cheeks. " I can't stand 
 the strain much longer." 
 
 Kent bent suddenly toward her. " I wish you'd 
 let me share your trouble. How can I help Ned? " 
 
 She drew herself together, her eyes like wells, 
 a frozen horror in them. 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 Her hands dropped at her side like stones. 
 She looked in her mournful beauty like a mute 
 image of sorrow; the sad, stricken eyes resting 
 upon the wall of stone that hid her treasure. 
 
 " Does he know ? " ventured Kent. 
 
 She silently shook her head. 
 
 "Could he be induced to talk?" Kent asked. 
 
 " I don't know. But I wish you'd try. I be- 
 lieve he wants to tell you something." 
 
 Kent glanced at the tower. " Perhaps I had 
 better go over." 
 
 " If you only would ! " 
 
 Kent crossed the intervening space with quick 
 steps, the wet gravel crunching beneath his feet. 
 The rain had ceased, but a silvery mist sparkled 
 upon the leaves. The lower floor of the tower 
 was simply a rough, empty chamber, from which 
 a flight of heavy stone steps wound to the next 
 floor. Kent hesitated a moment, and then, ad- 
 vancing to the foot of the staircase, sent his deep 
 voice echoing up the gloomy cavern. The rever-
 
 A BROKEN SILENCE 119 
 
 berations woke a thousand tongues that sent back 
 his voice strangely transformed. Aveling's face, 
 crossed by a black-barred, gray light, suddenly 
 started out of the shadows above. 
 
 " I couldn't find a horn to wind," Kent sang 
 out, " so I gave an imitation in my best style. 
 May I come up ? " 
 
 Aveling's grim face relaxed in a mirthless 
 smile. " Come along," he said shortly. 
 
 Kent mounted the steps to a small vestibule 
 lighted dimly by a narrow slit in the wall, which 
 had thrown the eerie light across Aveling's face. 
 To one side another flight of steps wound upward, 
 suggestive of other flights curving into the owl- 
 haunted regions above. To the other, an open 
 door gave access to a room into which Aveling 
 beckoned Kent to come, and closed the door. 
 
 An eerie sense of being let into another per- 
 son's life laid hold of Kent as his glance went 
 round the room. The circular walls were lined 
 with bookcases, so high that a ladder was needed 
 to reach the topmost shelves. They were filled 
 with the sober drab and brown of a scholar's 
 library. At one side of the room was an arrange- 
 ment of things which Kent recognized as an ama- 
 teur laboratory; while in the centre stood a mas- 
 sive, antique table, equipped with a multitude of 
 small drawers. The dingy green cover was lit- 
 tered with note-books, pens, and ink, and sheets
 
 120 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 of paper closely filled with writing. It was the 
 workshop of a man accustomed to hours of pa- 
 tient, laborious research. 
 
 Kent dared not look at Aveling, who stood with 
 one hand resting on the table. He vainly tried 
 to connect the grave, serious figure with the debo- 
 nair associations of the past. He knew now the 
 meaning of the slight droop of Aveling's head 
 and the curving rise of shoulders above it the 
 shape of a man accustomed to work at a desk. 
 He tried to escape the keen gaze that made ef- 
 fort to shackle his attention. An idea came to 
 him. Had he been seen lounging in the porch, 
 and did Aveling deliberately trap him here? He 
 hastily began to speak: 
 
 "Well, this is a jolly old place." The hol- 
 lowness of his own desperate cheerfulness startled 
 Kent himself. 
 
 " I don't know," came the hesitating answer. 
 " I wouldn't call it exactly jolly." 
 
 Kent felt the cold sweat ooze from every pore. 
 Aveling still stood motionless, eyeing Kent with 
 the look of a man who expected him to read the 
 message the old walls were giving to his dull 
 senses. But Kent vainly searched for his deliv- 
 erance. 
 
 A shaft of rainy sunlight broke through one 
 of the high, narrow windows and struck into the 
 gray gloom, pointing downward like a finger, un-
 
 A BROKEN SILENCE 
 
 til it rested upon some rows of books, where the 
 latticed doors stood slightly ajar. Kent instantly 
 darted forward as if driven, not seeming to have 
 power over his footsteps, until they ceased be- 
 fore the rows of illuminated shelves. A loud, 
 quick breathing at his ear warned him that Avel- 
 ing had followed. 
 
 Kent ran his eye over the titles standing clear 
 against the dark covers, " Principles of Psy- 
 chology," " Double Consciousness," " Uncon- 
 scious Memory," " Bondage of the Will," 
 " Phantasms of the Dead." His eye streamed 
 on memory again double consciousness dou- 
 ble memory, poor Aveling's secret was unveiling 
 itself in these harmless tomes, their dark signifi- 
 cance leading the trail into the morass upon which 
 Kent's attention finally rested, big, bold, staring 
 letters of ghastly white that unsealed Mrs. Avel- 
 ing's dread, " Suicide." 
 
 Kent stood frozen to the spot with horror. 
 Aveling was searching madly for some secret hid- 
 den within the shadow-land between the soul and 
 its walls of clay. 
 
 Mechanically, Kent put out his hand and drew 
 a volume from the shelf. The slight groan that 
 came from the closely packed shelves made him 
 start and the book tumbled to the floor. He 
 bent over to pick it up ? marvelling at his shaken 
 nerves.
 
 " I didn't realize that you were so interested in 
 psychic research, Aveling," he said lightly. He 
 leafed the book, but for his life he could not see 
 a word. Aveling had retreated to the table. He 
 shrank a little as Kent's lifted gaze met his. 
 
 " Old Professor Boyce you remember him? " 
 Kent went on " died and bequeathed that part 
 of his library to me. He was always in a pet with 
 the authorities in science, and he remarked in his 
 will, with considerable sarcasm, that I was the 
 only man in American who had a glimmer of rea- 
 son about the new psychology " Kent broke 
 
 off, amazed at the sudden fire that flamed from 
 Aveling as he lifted his voice in passionate speech. 
 
 " Yes I know you are. That's why I sent for 
 you ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MAEIOLA 
 
 KENT was silenced by this startling announce- 
 ment. Then he had done well to defy Dr. War- 
 ren's friendly warnings. 
 
 " So I can be of use," he quietly observed, 
 turning over the leaves of a magazine selected 
 carelessly from a heap beside the table. " In 
 what way? " 
 
 Kent's quiet manner and matter-of-fact words 
 calmed Aveling. His tremor departed and his 
 face relaxed. " To tell you the truth, I don't 
 know, Kent," he replied. " But something is 
 wrong with me, something threatens my life. I 
 will go the way they all did, unless we can un- 
 ravel the mystery." 
 
 Kent directed a keen glance at him. " Why do 
 you feel so sure you will die? " 
 
 Aveling took hold of a chair with an uncertain 
 grasp. " We all do, Kent ; we all do," he said, 
 in a high-pitched, helpless tone, as if he belonged 
 to a band of outlaws. 
 
 " Is that the only reason? " 
 123
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Aveling glanced fearfully about the circular 
 chamber, as if they might be overheard, and, 
 creeping silently nearer, lowered his voice, speak- 
 ing rapidly. " No, there is something more. I 
 feel my strength grow less every day. My nerves 
 are loose as fiddle-strings, and my muscles soft 
 and useless. Why, man, I can't handle a pair 
 of clubs or dumb-bells any more." He was breath- 
 less and spent, but wore the look of one relieved 
 of a burden, as if the mere act of speech eased 
 him. 
 
 Kent was rudely faced with a fact he had re- 
 fused to see, and when he spoke it was to reassure 
 himself. " I think you are out of practice, Ned. 
 Let us try the effect of some regular work to- 
 gether." 
 
 Aveling shook his head. " I am willing to try 
 anything, but it is of no use to hope for results 
 from exercise. It goes too deep. Something is 
 tapping my very life-springs." He went on after 
 a moment's pause, " Why, Kent, I made a special 
 point of athletics after I came here, and there 
 has been a steady decline of strength." 
 
 Kent was startled, but did not speak until he 
 felt Aveling's hand upon his arm. " Say, Kent 
 you can help a fellow. A man can face death, 
 
 but this ghastly spinning around a whirlpool " 
 
 He broke off, shivering violently. 
 
 Kent looked quietly into the blanched counte-
 
 MARIOLA 125 
 
 nance. " Yes, Ned. I am sure there is a way 
 to help you, and we'll never rest until we find it. 
 But, first, I'd like to have a little talk about this 
 ancestor of yours whose portrait you so strongly 
 resemble." 
 
 " The resemblance is not the strangest part," 
 said Aveling. " Every reigning heir, after a 
 short residence here, begins to look like that por- 
 trait. It has been observed over and over." 
 
 " Well, then, that furnishes a beginning," said 
 Kent. 
 
 " Ah ! but the next step is the difficulty. We 
 never get to that." 
 
 " But don't you see, Aveling, that all these 
 strange occurrences centre about a personality; 
 and that every incident identifies it with the old 
 Templar. Now there must be a reason for this. 
 If a former lord of Roxmoor impresses himself 
 upon his heirs with such terrible force as to 
 affect their very lives, there exists a cause for it. 
 What is the feeling that you have when these 
 seizures come? " 
 
 " That's just the trouble. I can't remember. I 
 am only conscious of some force gripping me that 
 is stronger than my own. Then everything is a 
 blank until it is all over." 
 
 Kent thought a moment. It was always re- 
 morse or penance that inspired Aveling's moods. 
 " Tell me something about this Lord Aveling,"
 
 126 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 he said. " I questioned Bateson once or twice, but 
 he gave me little that was of use." 
 
 " He lived during the Middle Ages," Aveling 
 readily replied. " He became a powerful figure 
 in the court of Henry IV, one of the king's most 
 valued advisers, history tells us." 
 
 " There is nothing in his history to suggest any 
 reason for remorse?" 
 
 " Not the least," said Aveling, in evident sur- 
 prise. " He was of great service to the king, 
 and, after the death of his wife, to whom he paid 
 a tender devotion quite out of keeping with his 
 rude time, he became highly religious. In fact, 
 all the records show him to be a benevolent, pious 
 man, devoted to family, king, and country." 
 
 This baffling story tallied exactly with Bate- 
 son's tale. However, they were to make head- 
 way; it was not to be in a fresh examination of 
 his history, but in a more careful consideration 
 of the human elements in the problem. Incon- 
 gruous as it might seem, there must somewhere be 
 a link which would connect the memories of a 
 pious man with a conscience that seven centuries 
 could not rest. 
 
 He was an interesting character, this strange 
 old man, who grew more lovable and pious as 
 he was revealed. Kent liked the touch of finer 
 feeling in his devotion to his wife. It must have 
 been something rare to carry the story through
 
 MARIOLA 127 
 
 so many generations. This deviation from the 
 common track interested Kent. He fancied her 
 lovely and gracious, to inspire so deep a feeling. 
 " Do you know anything about the wife for whom 
 the Lord Aveling cared with so much tenderness ? " 
 
 " Very little beyond her name. She was called 
 the Lady Mariola." 
 
 " What an odd name ! Not English, surely." 
 
 " She was an Italian." Something in the con- 
 versation vitalized Aveling's gloomy mood. He 
 quivered with a current of life. " How would 
 you like to see the tomb where he and his wife 
 lie buried ? " Aveling unexpectedly asked. " We 
 might go out now." 
 
 Kent gave assent. There was some mystery 
 in Aveling's manner, but he volunteered no 
 further information as Kent followed him out of 
 the tower. 
 
 The rain had now entirely ceased. The sun 
 shone at intervals. Aveling crossed the courtyard 
 and struck into a bypath. The woods here 
 seemed full of a neglected and choking under- 
 growth, from which they emerged upon a broad 
 path, deserted and overgrown. Weeds stood rank 
 and high in the gravel. Wild things hopped un- 
 molested through it. The path curved away, in 
 one direction, to the castle ; and in the other, to- 
 ward a gate, rusty with disuse. To this gate 
 Aveling directed his steps. He turned aside and,
 
 128 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 fumbling among the bushes, applied a key to a 
 small gate. It opened, and he stood aside to let 
 Kent through. They came out upon a road; 
 walking down a little distance, and then through 
 another gate, and they were in an old cemetery. 
 
 " Do you know what that path was through 
 which we came ? " asked Aveling, with impetuous 
 haste. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " There is a tradition that, unless the dead 
 lord of the manor is carried down that path, he 
 goes to an unquiet grave." 
 
 " And did any one ever violate the tradition ? " 
 asked Kent lightly. 
 
 " It has been done just once." 
 
 The very perceptibly deepening melancholy of 
 his mood warned Kent into silence. Aveling struck 
 into a sharper gait, with a growing abstraction. 
 He turned into a hawthorn path, which led to a 
 church standing within the manor lines. The 
 slanting light of afternoon fell gently on the 
 time-stained walls. Aveling, growing more moody 
 under the solemn spell of the place, pushed on 
 into the church, a stealthy stillness marking every 
 step. Inside, he paused before an ancient tomb, 
 a beautiful recumbent effigy in copper of a long- 
 departed Aveling. With a sudden casting off of 
 caution, Kent asked about the ancestor whose 
 funeral train had broken family custom. Avel-
 
 MARIOLA 129 
 
 ing turned away. A few steps brought them to 
 an ornate tomb dating from the middle centu- 
 ries. Aveling let his eyes rest upon it. 
 
 " Here lies the old Lord Aveling, whose por- 
 trait hangs in the gallery and whose funeral train 
 did not come down the path." 
 
 Kent understood that Aveling attached some 
 significance to the old legend. As he continued 
 to gaze at the tomb the sense of a magnetic pres- 
 ence came to him, a rich and powerful person- 
 ality, a pervading will and purpose that chained 
 the senses. He tried to shake it off, but it laid 
 hold of him with an iron clutch. There was a 
 stir of fear in his blood that chilled the warm 
 currents as that unseen presence tugged at him, 
 and the strange influence that so often struck 
 from Aveling's moods invaded his mind. There 
 was a swift intuition of danger, as if he stood 
 upon the brink of the abyss which was slowly 
 engulfing the man at his side. 
 
 Aveling's manner grew more pre-occupied. He 
 muttered uneasily and made impatient gestures, 
 but they had a new significance. It was not the 
 manner of a man who evades, but something more 
 vital that yet eluded Kent's grasp. It was pos- 
 sible that he might have something more to tell. 
 Aveling turned abruptly from an old monument 
 they were examining. " Come on let's go out- 
 side."
 
 130 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Kent noticed a lightening of his countenance, 
 a flash of smouldering fire in his eye. They passed 
 out through a side door into the churchyard and 
 moved among the fallen tombstones, time-stained 
 and lichen-covered. Rosemary and rue reminded 
 the passer-by that here lay human dust. 
 
 A chill struck through Kent as he bent over 
 an old stone. He started slightly and looked 
 up, to meet Aveling's piercing eyes, instantly 
 withdrawn. Kent shook off the unpleasant im- 
 pression and followed as Aveling moved away, 
 but he was distinctly conscious of the close-kept 
 watch upon him. They were passing a row of 
 graves whose stones were almost hidden by small 
 fir-trees. Aveling rapidly walked on, while Kent 
 stooped to decipher the almost obliterated names. 
 When Kent joined him he was standing with 
 bared head looking down, with deep emotion, at 
 a plain, single gravestone placed against a back- 
 ground of weeping willows. As Kent stepped to 
 his side the sun dropped behind a bank of clouds, 
 seeming to let down a pall even in that place of 
 sorrow. Aveling smothered a cry. 
 
 He continued immovable, and Kent bent his 
 scrutiny upon the stone. There was nothing to 
 catch the eye, except its newness. It could not 
 be old. Kent's searching gaze soon saw the date 
 less than two years old and the name, " Mari- 
 ola, wife of " The name was illegible to one
 
 MARIOLA 131 
 
 in Kent's position. The words, cut into the 
 stone, were lost in the slightly mottled grain. 
 But the name, " Mariola," rang in his brain with 
 a vain effort to connect this evidently humble 
 woman, who had recently lived, with the noble 
 lady who was the object of the old lord's tender 
 love. 
 
 Unable to fathom the design which had brought 
 him here with so laborious an approach, Kent 
 dared not question Aveling. Conscious of the 
 shifting scrutiny that swept from the humble 
 grave to himself and back again, he stood still 
 and continued his quiet inspection. There was 
 nothing to suggest the smallest clue to work 
 upon. 
 
 "Well, shall we move on?" There was dis- 
 tinct disappointment in the even tones and a sick- 
 ened intonation which Kent instantly divined to 
 mean that the grave had withheld a secret. He 
 felt sure now that this was the cemetery which 
 Aveling brought him once before to see. He was 
 evidently on the search for something and plainly 
 wanted Kent to see a thing which somehow es- 
 caped him. 
 
 Aveling looked wistfully up at the sullen sky 
 and turned reluctantly away. For the time his 
 search was baffled. All the fire and energy de- 
 parted from him. He sank into a lassitude that 
 increased with each flagging step. Kent racked
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 his brain for the few characteristics of that quiet 
 grave. He remembered Aveling's distressed out- 
 cry when the sun disappeared. The other visit 
 had been made at this hour. Then, at the earliest 
 opportunity he must seek that grave, at sunset, 
 and alone. 
 
 As they stepped into the road Aveling turned 
 off in a new direction, which Kent judged was to 
 lead to another entrance than the grass-grown 
 funeral path. He was mentally turning over his 
 recollections of the first walk to the cemetery. 
 From what side had they approached it? He saw 
 nothing to-day that looked the least bit familiar. 
 
 They were suddenly confronted by a little girl, 
 shyly holding up to Aveling a basket of black- 
 berries. It was the same child they had met 
 before. Aveling looked at her as if confused. 
 
 " They are for you. I picked them for you," 
 she said softly, her small face wreathed in a win- 
 ning smile. 
 
 He made a violent motion. " For Heaven's 
 sake, child, eat them yourself. I don't want 
 them ;" and, pushing roughly past her, he walked 
 hastily away. 
 
 The child shrank as if struck, and, after a 
 glance at the retreating figure, turned a pitiful 
 face up to Kent. He bent over her and, taking 
 the basket, passed his hand across her head. 
 
 " I will take the berries home to him. I know
 
 MARIOLA 133 
 
 he will be glad to have them. You mustn't mind 
 he is very tired to-day." 
 
 "Is he angry? What did I do?" A tear, 
 quivering on the long fringe of each dark eye, 
 fell on the soft, blooming cheeks and rolled down. 
 She put up her hand and brushed them away. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said Kent heartily. " Not 
 a bit of it. I am going to give your present to 
 him and I know he will be pleased." 
 
 The assurance so firmly given won back the 
 smile that so glorified her small, dark face. Kent 
 watched her keenly for a moment, and then went 
 on. Where had he seen that face, ennobled by 
 time and opportunity? And why did this child 
 appear at every turn of the road? He wheeled in 
 his path, struck by a sudden thought. " What is 
 your name, little girl? " 
 
 " Mariola."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A KEY 
 
 THE next morning a dish of blackberries was 
 placed beside Aveling at the table. He looked 
 sharply at his wife. " What is this ? " he said, 
 with annoyance in his tone. 
 
 " Mariola sent them to you, dear. She ex- 
 pressly said they were for you," returned Mrs. 
 Aveling. 
 
 He did not look up, but put out his hand to 
 draw them near. He ate them all, but every one 
 was choked down an evidently unwilling throat, 
 with the humility and significance of an act of 
 penance. 
 
 He was spent and listless, showing little inter- 
 est in anything. At Kent's suggestion Mrs. Avel- 
 ing sent for the family at Melton Abbey to come 
 in to tea, and they spent the day in quiet antici- 
 pation of that event. 
 
 In the intervals of chess and bridge, or any 
 entertainment to which Aveling could be induced 
 to give his scant attention, Kent's mind was busy 
 with the curious circumstances concerned in that 
 odd name, Mariola. He was convinced that some- 
 134
 
 A KEY 135 
 
 thing of vital importance lay in this apparently 
 disconnected fact, and he stealthily hoped that it 
 might furnish the clue they so sorely needed. The 
 fast approaching birthday impressed him with 
 the need for haste. Dr. Warren said they all died 
 at thirty-five, and Aveling would reach that fatal 
 age in seventeen days, a fact which occasioned 
 fresh dismay to Kent, for Aveling lost strength 
 daily. His weakness was alarming and his face 
 was heavily lined. 
 
 The gloom that lay upon the house lifted when 
 the party came from the Abbey, bringing Betty 
 Gary and some other people Kent had met. He 
 was talking with a young beauty, who had made 
 a sensation in London during the last season, 
 when a voice fell upon his astonished ears. 
 
 " Why, Mary Endicott," he said, putting out 
 both his hands. 
 
 The woman he addressed was tall and hand- 
 some, with iron-gray hair and full, expressive eyes 
 that danced as she met his effusive greeting. 
 
 " Well, it is worth while to cross the Atlantic 
 just to receive such a welcome," she said. She 
 turned aside to greet Aveling, who, as Kent saw, 
 was equally surprised and pleased. 
 
 " Lady Melton, do you keep these treasures 
 in your pockets to dazzle your friends?" said 
 Aveling. He spoke with careless good-humor, and 
 she made a laughing answer.
 
 136 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 The little incident did not so easily leave Kent's 
 mind. A fleeting look of consciousness which 
 crossed Mrs. Aveling's face caught his attention. 
 Mary Endicott, the cousin who had been foster- 
 mother to Mrs. Aveling after her own mother 
 died, must have been sent for. Kent had known 
 her from boyhood. He was glad she was 
 there. 
 
 The chatter around him became more lively. 
 Some one suggested an excursion through the 
 house. Aveling fell in with the plan at once; but 
 Kent saw that he made the tour as short as pos- 
 sible, and led the way again to the great hallway, 
 catching an excuse from some admirer of old 
 armor. The collection in the hall was old and 
 famous. Kent also noticed that he contrived an 
 earnest talk with Miss Endicott, and then moved 
 toward Lady Melton. The conversation had 
 fallen a little, and Miss Endicott's rich voice rang 
 out in the quiet : 
 
 " When you have grown up with an English 
 novel in your hands, it seems as if you were re- 
 turning home when you actually see the place 
 where the scenes are laid." 
 
 " I often wonder if Americans are not more 
 deeply touched by our garment of age than we 
 are," said Lord Melton. His wife was talking 
 to Kent, who closely watched her as she directed 
 a frowning attention upon her lord.
 
 A KEY 137 
 
 " Possibly it is so," returned Miss Endicott. 
 " We cannot help feeling a little green." 
 
 Lord Melton was greatly amused. " Green ! " 
 he repeated. " One would not imagine it. Do 
 you always conceal your feelings with such notable 
 success ? " 
 
 All at once Miss Endicott was stiffened in some 
 mood of deep abstraction. She stood near the 
 foot of the stairway. " I am not sure," she said. 
 A slight rigidity settled upon her. " I am not 
 sure," she repeated with slow, mechanical lips. 
 " I am not sure." 
 
 Lord Melton's face overspread with astonish- 
 ment. He caught Lady Melton's eye. She al- 
 most imperceptibly shook her head. As they 
 watched, Miss Endicott came to herself with a 
 start. When her bewildered face met Lady Mel- 
 ton's there was a frightened, hunted look upon it. 
 
 A peal of laughter swept down from the group 
 where Betty Gary and Aveling carried on a lively 
 skirmish of wits that held the attention of the 
 whole company. Miss Endicott moved quietly to 
 Lady Melton's side. " You don't suppose he saw 
 me," she said, in low,, hurried tones. Lady Mel- 
 ton glanced- at Aveling. 
 
 " No, he didn't hear. Betty is holding his at- 
 tention," she said. 
 
 " I never dreamed it could be so awful." Miss 
 Endicott shivered as she spoke. Her face grew
 
 138 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 paler. " Surely it is not right to leave Aline 
 here," she said, in imploring tones. 
 
 " We cannot persuade him to leave now. You 
 know, when they took him to Nice, he escaped and 
 returned alone." 
 
 Kent's alert attention became tense. Then 
 Aveling did not tell him the truth. He had been 
 out of England. Had he forgotten? There was 
 an expression of despair on Miss Endicott's face 
 when Kent's gaze returned to it. " Is there noth- 
 ing we can do? " she asked. 
 
 " Nothing but wait," said Lady Melton 
 sadly. Her dark eyes travelled off to uncon- 
 scious Aveling. 
 
 Kent studied her closely. She was looking very 
 beautiful to-day in her gown of creamy white, 
 touched here and there with falls of delicate lace. 
 Her expression changed. Aveling was ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 " Come, Lady Melton, you must give up your 
 booty. We are Americans and frown upon the 
 idea of privilege and monopoly." Aveling's face 
 was alight. He was in a bantering mood. The 
 whole company listened in silent amusement. 
 
 Lady Melton put her head to one side and laid 
 her hands together upon her lap. " My booty ? 
 What part of my possessions do you covet, Sir 
 Highwayman ? " 
 
 " What part? How can you pretend " He
 
 A KEY 139 
 
 finished with a graceful bow to Betty and Miss 
 Endicott. 
 
 " I vow you speak in riddles," she said. 
 
 " Very well, since you force me to such unnatu- 
 ral plainness," he made answer, with mock trag- 
 edy. " I make a formal demand for the two 
 charming persons upon whom you have laid 
 felonious hands." 
 
 A startled look came out upon the faces Kent 
 was watching. Lady Melton's cool composure 
 held. 
 
 " And by what right, good sir? " 
 
 " By the immortal right of the Stars and 
 Stripes, which stand for liberty and equality" he 
 said, with sharp emphasis. 
 
 " And the Union Jack stands for the defence 
 of rights and home" She bent an inscrutable 
 look upon Aveling and rose in the attitude of a 
 challenging muse. " But come, I will make ex- 
 change. What do you offer for my prize?" 
 
 Aveling's recklessness was instantly checked by 
 a note of deep meaning in her voice and manner. 
 
 "What will you take?" came the Yankee's 
 answer. 
 
 " I will make a fair exchange. Give me Mr. 
 Kent, and you may have my young ladies." 
 
 Her words crashed like a thunderbolt through 
 the silent group. Lady Melton still held her at- 
 titude of mock challenge. Over her face played
 
 140 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 a carefully maintained assumption of gayety. 
 Aveling recoiled a step; he had grown pale. He 
 made a deprecating motion with his hands. 
 
 " What would you ? If I surrender the only 
 attraction I have, how could I induce the young 
 ladies to come ? " he said quietly. 
 
 " Exactly. And how can I attract the means 
 to beguile my solitude, if you take my snares 
 away? " 
 
 For a moment there was a dead silence. Then 
 Lord Melton led a storm of applause. " Come, 
 Mr. Aveling. You were beaten in fair fight." 
 
 Aveling made a deep obeisance. " I surrender 
 to your ladyship." 
 
 A servant carrying a tray came in, followed 
 closely by the little girl whose name was Mariola. 
 She looked alarmed at the size of the company 
 and shrank back. Aveling sprang up with a look 
 of relief and went to meet her. " I had the ber- 
 ries you sent me, dear. Did you gather them 
 for me? " he asked, bending his tall form over 
 her. 
 
 She shyly lifted her face. " Yes, sir, if you 
 please, sir." 
 
 Aveling led her to a seat, with the deferential 
 gentleness he might pay a queen. Somehow it 
 had the grotesque significance of a man endeav- 
 oring to pay a debt, as Aveling gave her his at- 
 tention and plied her with sweetmeats.
 
 A KEY 14.1 
 
 Kent closely watched Aveling's interest in the 
 child. Betty Gary had taken Mariola in her 
 arms, and she and Aveling by turns were telling 
 fairy-tales for her amusement. The great, tawny 
 eyes devoured first one face and then the other. 
 Lady Melton stood a little apart watching the 
 group, her regard resting often, with the keen- 
 est interest, upon the child's face. Kent stepped 
 to her side. 
 
 " One seldom sees so beautiful a face," he 
 remarked. 
 
 " Very seldom," she returned, with nice pre- 
 cision. 
 
 " It is not an English face? " 
 
 " No." She seemed to reflect. " Did you ever 
 see a face that resembled hers ? " 
 
 " If I have not, I have at least dreamed of 
 one." 
 
 Lady Melton was silent. 
 
 " I have not yet found out who she is. Do you 
 happen to know? " he enquired. 
 
 " She is the daughter the only child of one 
 of the villagers." 
 
 " And her mother lies in the cemetery," fin- 
 ished Kent. 
 
 Lady Melton turned a somewhat startled face 
 upon him. 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " I made a rather unexpected visit to her grave
 
 142 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 in Avtling's company on one or two occa- 
 sions." 
 
 Lady Melton regarded the child. 
 
 " She looks as if she might be an Italian," ven- 
 tured Kent. 
 
 " She is of Italian descent." 
 
 Kent studied his distinguished neighbor. What 
 answer would she give the deep question that 
 lurked behind his lips ? " Why, Lady Melton, 
 does my friend, Aveling, who has no known con- 
 nection with this child or her ancestors why does 
 he feel so keen an interest in her? " 
 
 Lady Melton's frank gaze met his. " That, 
 Mr. Kent, is what we all would like to know." 
 
 Here Mariola was seen to anxiously address 
 Aveling. " Please, Mr. Aveling, is it half an 
 hour?" 
 
 "Since you came? Yes, I suppose it is." 
 
 She immediately slipped from her seat. " Then 
 I must go home. Grandmother said I should stay 
 only half an hour." 
 
 " Oh, your grandmother won't mind if you stay 
 a little longer," said Aveling, with humorous in- 
 dulgence. 
 
 " But my father would," gravely said the child. 
 " He doesn't like it when I come to Roxmoor." 
 
 Aveling shrank a little. " Very well," he said 
 briefly, moving as if to go with her. 
 
 Mrs. Aveling cast a perplexed look upon the
 
 A KEY 143 
 
 company, and then at Kent, who spoke at 
 once: 
 
 " You needn't take her, Ned. I'll see her safely 
 home." 
 
 " I intend to take her home myself," he said 
 with cutting emphasis, adding in a lower tone, 
 " It is more fitting." 
 
 He seemed unconscious of the anxiety in Mrs. 
 Aveling's face. His eyes were on the child; his 
 own expression shifting in response to some in- 
 ward stirring. But only Kent heard the low- 
 spoken words that came as if Aveling were but 
 the mouthpiece of another man : " Guard her like 
 your heart's blood. She is the key ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 " I MUST GIVE GIVE ! " 
 
 THE next morning Kent left Aveling safely im- 
 mersed in business with his agent and set off alone 
 for the cemetery. He was feeling the inspiration 
 of fresh hope concerning that odd name, Mariola. 
 Aveling's half-whispered words about the child, 
 " She is the key," confirmed Kent's belief. If he 
 could fathom Ned's odd connection with her and 
 learn what it meant to him, he felt the first step 
 would be taken. He hurried on his way. Just 
 as he passed inside the gates, clouds crossed the 
 sun, and, when he stood beside the grave, there 
 was only the dull light of former visits. 
 
 The grave lay in its humble silence ; a bunch 
 of simple cottage flowers lay withering in the 
 coarse grass. It was in its humility as far re- 
 moved from Roxmoor's splendor as a thing could 
 be. And yet Kent believed that it was a part of 
 that vital past that still lived there. The head- 
 stone that marked the grave was curiously 
 streaked and mottled. Kent stooped down and 
 read the rest of the inscription, " wife of Michel 
 144
 
 I MUST GIVE-GIVE ! " 145 
 
 Barotti," the date of birth and death, and that 
 was all. He turned away, baffled. 
 
 With a start he faced Mariola and a tall, ath- 
 letic man dressed in the garb of a laborer, yet 
 with a countenance that showed the marks of a 
 culture not belonging to his station. As they 
 met, Kent saw he flushed angrily and drew Mariola 
 to one side, with a cold and distant indication 
 that they waited for him to pass. Confused by a 
 feeling that he had been caught doing something 
 wrong, Kent moved away, bowing involuntarily. 
 At a little distance, from the shelter of a screen 
 of trees, he saw them at the grave. They were 
 replacing the faded flowers with some fresh ones. 
 
 After a few moments Kent started for the gate, 
 but hastily withdrew again into the shelter of 
 the trees. Aveling was approaching. He looked 
 thoughtful and sad. A deep-drawn sigh escaped 
 him as he passed Kent. A moment later he was 
 bowing almost with humility to the man with 
 Mariola. The child alternately smiled at and 
 shrank from Aveling. The man spoke. 
 
 " The poor live always in the eye of the public," 
 he said bitterly. " Not even our griefs are 
 sacred." 
 
 Aveling received the scornful words unmoved. 
 
 " I offer you an apology. I had no intention 
 of intruding," he said, with gentle dignity. " You 
 are Mariola's father? "
 
 146 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 The man bowed with a haughty grace that made 
 Kent stare. How came a peasant to have the 
 manner of a nobleman? 
 
 " I am also Mariola's husband," he said, point- 
 ing to the grave. " But I will wait aside until 
 you have finished your inspection. Grief can wait 
 upon the curiosity of the great." 
 
 A withering hate, which had been suppressed 
 with difficulty, flamed over the man. He raised 
 himself with an imperious lift of his giant frame 
 that caused his stature visibly to rise. This was 
 not the manner of a peasant to his lord, but, to 
 Kent's amazement, Aveling did not resent his 
 ironic words. He spoke gently. '* I did not come 
 to disturb you," he said. 
 
 " What, then, did you come for? " demanded 
 the man, his strange passion increasing at Avel- 
 ing's evident friendliness. 
 
 Aveling winced. A painful flush spread over 
 his features. " I was was just strolling about," 
 he said lamely. 
 
 " So it would appear. When your stroll is 
 ended, we may again have our dead, I suppose? " 
 
 Aveling's face was red and working. With a 
 stammered word or two he turned away and feebly 
 set off in the direction of the gate. 
 
 Kent waited for a while, not daring to follow 
 home too closely. The two figures again worked 
 quietly at the grave. Mariola stole an occasional,
 
 I MUST GIVE GIVE!" 147 
 
 troubled look at her father, who spoke to her 
 from time to time with the gentlest words. 
 
 On his homeward walk Kent vainly puzzled over 
 the animosity of the man and could think of no 
 reason why Aveling's presence should rouse such 
 anger. Nor did he receive any help from Avel- 
 ing, who was in a mood of quiet melancholy 
 when they met, and made no mention of the 
 encounter. 
 
 The day passed quietly away. Aveling was 
 apparently wrapped in thought; and Kent, read- 
 ing to beguile the time, became immersed in his 
 story. He was suddenly roused by Mrs. Aveling's 
 hasty entrance. 
 
 " Where's Ned ? " she asked sharply. 
 
 Kent had not noticed his silent disappearance. 
 He looked up blankly, wondering what he should 
 say to quiet Mrs. Aveling's alarm. 
 
 At that moment he saw Aveling steal past the 
 window, with the silent ease he of late put into 
 his motions. Kent leisurely rose and took up his 
 hat. " Ned is just outside," he said pleasantly. 
 " We are going for a walk." 
 
 Mrs. Aveling looked relieved. She was deathly 
 pale to-day. Kent sauntered lazily out, only to 
 fall into a quick run when the door concealed him. 
 Once outside he cast a swift glance about. Avel- 
 ing was nowhere in sight. 
 
 Kent came down the steps and halted in the
 
 148 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 shelter of a clump of fir-trees. There was not a 
 thing in the orderly paths, that stretched away 
 in every direction, to indicate which one Aveling 
 had taken. From the direction in which he was 
 going when he passed the window, it was fair to 
 assume that he had the cemetery again in mind. 
 Kent left the trees and swung into the nearest 
 path that led there. 
 
 There was no sign of Aveling near the grave 
 when Kent reached it, nothing but a cluster of 
 exquisite roses lying on it. He had not been 
 able to see more than Aveling's head as he passed 
 the window; but no other person could have put 
 the roses there. He noticed that the flowers which 
 Mariola and her father brought lay near the head 
 of the grave, while the costly roses lay at the foot. 
 
 Kent's anxiety as to Aveling's whereabouts be- 
 came more pressing. He glanced ahead. A broad 
 walk stretched onward to a thick glade of trees 
 descending a gentle slope. There was a glimmer 
 of water through the foliage. A single footprint 
 in a loose spot of earth looked fresh, as if some 
 one had recently passed that way. Kent started 
 down the path. 
 
 A half-smothered cry of rage cut through the 
 stillness. Kent turned quickly about. Mariola's 
 father was stooping over the grave. A moment 
 later he had risen with the roses in his hand. With 
 a backward swing of his lithe form, as sinuous as
 
 " I MUST GIVE GIVE ! " 149 
 
 a serpent, he hurled Aveling's gift into a nearby 
 thicket. Kent proceeded down the path. 
 
 The growth of trees thickened. It was per- 
 vaded by a woody smell, which rose from the 
 rank underbrush and spots of earth which here 
 and there lay bare. The path apparently ran 
 near a stream. Kent could hear the running wa- 
 ter and now and then catch the sparkle of its 
 surface. He came out abruptly upon a high, 
 shelving bank. Upon its brink, looking quietly 
 down at the swirling water, which here looked 
 black and deep, stood Aveling. His hands were 
 clasped behind his back, his head bent down. His 
 black-clad form, projected clear against the light, 
 looked more lean and spare than ever. He seemed 
 lost in reverie. 
 
 " Well, I have had a chase for you," said 
 Kent. " I saw you pass the window and started 
 out to join you for a walk. I brought up here 
 in sheer desperation." 
 
 Aveling stood quite still. He had not stirred, 
 except to turn a fixed and penetrating gaze on 
 Kent, and then he again faced the water. " It 
 seems quiet and restful here," he said. 
 
 Kent did not speak. 
 
 Aveling drew a long sigh. " I have a fancy 
 when I come here," he said dreamily. " It looks 
 so smooth, like a soft bed, where one might find 
 a sleep that should truly rest."
 
 150 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Some magnetic influence from the music of the 
 water, or perhaps its onward, gliding motion, 
 swayed his always sensitive volition. Kent's 
 sturdy, masculine sense closed about his mood. 
 
 " Is the fishing good ? " he asked. 
 
 Aveling stirred. " Fishing? " he said vaguely. 
 
 " I'm sure Fishing, did you say ? Oh ! I 
 
 never fish here. No, we never fish here." He 
 turned away from the stream and groped help- 
 lessly about. 
 
 " Let's go home, Kent," he said wearily. " I'm 
 tired;" and he led the way without further 
 parley. 
 
 The path ran beside the grave, where Aveling 
 came to a sudden halt, looking anxiously over it. 
 
 " Why why they're gone ! " he said, going 
 nearer and looking up and down. 
 
 "What's the matter, Aveling?" Kent called 
 out. 
 
 " It's the funniest thing. I put some roses 
 there awhile ago and they are gone." He looked 
 up at Kent, his eyes were bright and startled. 
 
 " Perhaps some one stole them," suggested 
 Kent. 
 
 Aveling looked relieved. " Do you think so ? " 
 he said anxiously. " I thought the poor beggar 
 wouldn't even let me put flowers on her grave. I 
 
 like to " He began to speak confusedly. 
 
 Kent could get no meaning out of the disjointed
 
 "I MUST GIVE GIVE!" 151 
 
 phrases. He laid his hand heavily on Aveling's 
 arm. 
 
 " Why do you put flowers on that grave ? " he 
 asked imperiously. 
 
 " Because, Kent, don't you see I must, I 
 must." The last word became a helpless wail. 
 Kent kept a piercing gaze upon the face that 
 wavered before him. He saw, as through a veil, 
 the struggling of a purpose which Aveling could 
 feel but never master. 
 
 Aveling looked down at the place where the 
 roses had lain, sighing heavily. " Well, they are 
 gone." He moved away, and Kent followed. 
 With a quick glance Kent put in one more stroke : 
 
 " Does Mariola look like her mother? " 
 
 " I don't know. I never saw the woman." He 
 hesitated, adding in a lower tone, " She died two 
 months before the late owner of Roxmoor." 
 
 Nearly three months before Aveling knew he 
 was to succeed, and yet he put flowers upon this 
 unknown woman's grave ! Kent stepped forward 
 to bar Aveling's pathway. If he could force a 
 little coherent thought, it might help to disen- 
 tangle the motive which lay concealed in Aveling's 
 queer attentions. He fixed a keen, compelling 
 gaze upon the wavering face: 
 
 " Think, man, think ! Why did you put those 
 flowers there? and why did Mariola's present give 
 you pain? Think, for your very life! "
 
 152 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Aveling began to speak slow, halting words, 
 as if something buried in the inscrutable deeps 
 of being was coming painfully into the circle of 
 his conscious powers. 
 
 " I must .not take from them," he gasped. " I 
 must give give ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE DOOM OF KOXMOOR 
 
 KENT retired early that night, feeling worn and 
 spent, but in a hopeful mood, in spite of the 
 gloomy and anxious evening. Aveling, upon their 
 return to the house, sank into a state of semi- 
 oblivion, muttering the pressure of thought lying 
 on him, " Give give ! " He remained quite tract- 
 able, and was easily persuaded to retire, and Kent 
 followed at once. 
 
 Kent started suddenly from profound slumber 
 into the acutest consciousness. He could not tell 
 the hour, but knew it must be midway of the night. 
 The sleep-bound house was locked in a silence that 
 was almost audible. It seemed to him as if he had 
 been wakened by a sharp rapping at the door. 
 The sounds of moans and groans still rang in his 
 ear. As he listened, the rapping and moans com- 
 menced again. The giant fir-tree outside his win- 
 dow was tapping on the glass. The branches 
 sighed as they swayed against each other and the 
 walls of the house. 
 
 He tried to go asleep again, but his conscious- 
 ness seemed like a tight-strung harp. It quivered 
 
 153
 
 154 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 at every gust of wind and snapping branch. He 
 got up at last and made a light, looking down into 
 the flame as if uncertain what next to do. A 
 travelling-rug lay over his easy-chair. He put it 
 about him, and, taking up a magazine that lay on 
 the table, began to examine its pages. He had a 
 disagreeable sense of waiting for something. Now 
 and then he raised his head and listened. The 
 silence of the house remained unbroken. 
 
 After an interval there came a sound, as if the 
 garment of a passing form had brushed against 
 the door. He rose quickly and threw it open. 
 The hall was still and empty. A dim light cast 
 fantastic shadows. He stepped out and peered 
 around. Nothing stirred. After a moment's 
 scrutiny he returned to his room, but he did not 
 sit down. Instead, he went to his dressing-room, 
 and presently emerged fully dressed. 
 
 He sat down in the easy-chair. His face was 
 tense and drawn. There had something come to 
 him, born of the hour and place, which confirmed 
 Bateson's words and Dr. Warren's solemn warn- 
 ing. Was he to pay the price of interference, 
 here, alone, at midnight? 
 
 He heard again the brushing of that mysterious 
 garment against the door. His eyes turned irre- 
 sistibly toward it. He clutched the arms of his 
 chair and began to argue with himself. He had 
 been in the hall, and it was deserted; it was use-
 
 THE DOOM OF ROXMOOR 155 
 
 less to go again. And yet, like invisible fingers, 
 that compulsion tore at him. A dreadful fear 
 stole through him as he battled, a terrifying sense 
 of loss, as if the Self were sinking into abysmal 
 deeps. He rose unsteadily, and wavering steps led 
 him to the door. He caught up a candle, by the 
 power of the last faint impulse of his dying self- 
 control, and passed into the hall. A shadow 
 seemed to move before him. 
 
 Kent lost all volition as he blindly followed that 
 ghostly leading. A few lights burned dimly 
 everywhere. All about him he felt the pressure 
 of a guiding that let him move but in one way. 
 In this manner he traversed several corridors, 
 turning and doubling with no sense of where he 
 was going, until he entered a hall which he recog- 
 nized as being a part of the Italian Wing. He 
 slowed his steps and came to a halt, as he felt 
 a lowering of the impulse which had led him. 
 Through the dim light, he just perceived a door- 
 way that opened in one of the darkened walls, and 
 seemed to invite him, as he approached. He 
 stepped within, and found himself in the picture- 
 gallery ! 
 
 He looked about the room, bewildered. Half- 
 way down its gloomy length, a dull cloud of red 
 light glowed like a dim mist. He could just 
 faintly discern the frames of pictures that crowded 
 the wall. He pressed silently forward. As he
 
 156 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 neared the cloud of dull light, a single ray shone 
 brightly from its centre, like a tiny star. Curious 
 to know what it was, he advanced within the circle 
 of light. A sudden sense of a human presence came 
 upon him. He looked helplessly at the tiny lamp, 
 such as the devout place before a shrine. It burned 
 within a niche let into the wall beneath a pic- 
 ture, its hiding-place so small, its flame so feeble 
 that, in the daylight, only the sharpest eye might 
 see it. Kent raised his candle, and scanned the 
 picture that hung above the niche. The Templar 
 eyed him in his melancholy splendor. 
 
 Unconsciously, Kent stepped backward. The 
 candle-flame threw a lurid light across the can- 
 vas. Everything around the figure vanished. The 
 stately form took on the look of solid clay. Kent, 
 still trembling under the vivid sense of that elusive 
 human presence which led him here, dumbly asked 
 for the torturing secret of it. The anguished face 
 glared into his. The racked soul showed its wound, 
 but the secret, so clearly burdening him, kept 
 within the shadows. 
 
 Kent felt a lessening of the strain upon him. 
 The inscrutable presence slowly receded. With a 
 feeling of desperation, Kent darted forward. He 
 was so near he could not lose the chance that 
 might clear Aveling's burdened life. 
 
 " What is your guilty secret, you hound of 
 hell? "
 
 THE DOOM OF ROXMOOR 157 
 
 He stood glaring madly at the dreadful face. 
 A moment later, he staggered back. A deadly 
 clutch, like a pair of iron hands, gripped his 
 throat. As he writhed within that horrible grasp, 
 he stepped outside the circle of light, and the 
 hands were gone. 
 
 Pale and shaken, he stood gasping for breath, 
 the sweat running from every pore. The light 
 still burned. The picture hung in its melancholy 
 silence. Unable to take in the meaning of it, Kent 
 went forward, and set his foot within that magic 
 circle. A weird consciousness of a double self fell 
 upon him. Long fingers reached out toward him, 
 the figure within the frame seemed to bend for- 
 ward. Kent withdrew, and silence and oblivion 
 fell again. But he felt a kind of moral lassitude, 
 as if he could not resist outer persuasion, and 
 insensibly approached the circle of light. Just on 
 the edge, a swift intuition came to him, and lay- 
 ing a rude grip upon his diminished self-command, 
 he turned and stumbled out of the gallery, putting 
 his hand upon the door to pull it shut. It resisted 
 his efforts. He put both hands upon it, and exert- 
 ing all his strength, drew it shut with a crash, 
 just in time to see Aveling coming down the cor- 
 ridor. Kent stepped back, with a feeling of grati- 
 tude that he had prevented Aveling's entrance to 
 the gallery when such terrible powers were abroad. 
 
 Aveling seemed to be asleep. He walked straight
 
 158 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 to the gallery door, and when he found it closed, 
 seemed bewildered, fumbling aimlessly at the heavy 
 wooden panels. Gradually, the power of motion 
 left him. He dropped upon the floor, and sank 
 into profound slumber. Mrs. Aveling hurried for- 
 ward, and fell on her knees beside him, caressing 
 his face, and calling his name. 
 
 " What is wrong? " asked Kent, dismayed by 
 her wild grief. 
 
 " I don't know," she wailed, bent weeping over 
 the prostrate figure. " Perhaps you have killed 
 him!"
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 CHALLENGED 
 
 WHEN the vertical rays of noon wiped out the 
 shadows the next day, Aveling was still asleep. 
 He lay in exactly the same position where they 
 placed him, his face wore a purple flush. He 
 breathed in deep, steady pulls. Dr. Warren was 
 on duty, having been summoned in the night. In 
 another room, Lady Melton and Mary Endicott 
 worked over prostrate Mrs. Aveling. She had col- 
 lapsed and did not move, except on occasion to 
 wearily whisper, " Ned, my Ned ! " 
 
 Betty wept alone in another room, her child's 
 soul shrinking at the awful alarms printed on 
 every face, her loyal heart binding her to the 
 the place where her friend sorrowed. " Do you 
 think he will die ? " she asked Lady Melton. 
 
 " Oh, Betty dear, he had better go now, before 
 he kills her too." 
 
 " But why, why must he die? " whispered Betty. 
 
 " I don't know, but they all do. It's only sooner 
 or later," she said wearily. " Here comes Mr. 
 Kent. Well?" 
 
 " He is just the same. How is Mrs. Aveling? " 
 159
 
 160 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " She will be no better until we take her some 
 good news." 
 
 Kent's face saddened as she spoke. " Lady Mel- 
 ton, can you not persuade her to leave him for a 
 while? It will otherwise surely kill her." 
 
 She gently shook her head. " Perhaps we can 
 a little later, when we can convince her it is for 
 his good. For the present it would be like tear- 
 ing her heart from her living body. He will soon 
 become violent and maniacal. It may then be pos- 
 sible." 
 
 Kent felt stifled. He was relieved of duty in 
 the sick-room for the present, and he went out to 
 the terrace for a little fresh air. Mrs. Aveling's 
 words were weighing heavily upon him. If he had 
 only left that infernal door to the gallery open! 
 He did not yet know fully what his act meant; 
 for, in the anxious hours that followed, there had 
 been little time to dwell upon it. He knew it 
 was, so far as any mortal knows, the closed door 
 which produced the shock, followed by the alarm- 
 ing coma. But what chiefly occupied his thoughts 
 was Aveling's venture into that deadly place. 
 Why should he have risen at midnight to make 
 that mysterious visit to the gallery? The final out- 
 come of it all must rest somewhat on that. 
 
 As Kent emerged from the house, he saw Dr. 
 Warren standing with his hands behind his back,
 
 CHALLENGED 161 
 
 looking out across the valley. He bowed gravely 
 to Kent. 
 
 " Fall seems to be coming early," he said with 
 formal courtesy. 
 
 " Yes the first of November will soon be here," 
 said Kent sharply. The doctor maintained his 
 grave manner. 
 
 " The natural season of death," he said, with a 
 distant air. 
 
 " But suppose a man should not want to die 
 before his time," Kent returned meaningly. 
 
 " Nature has a way of not attending to the 
 wishes of her victims," said Dr. Warren, in a tone 
 of great reserve. 
 
 " The wise man, then, lives merrily, and dies 
 when he must," said Kent. 
 
 " The wise man does not evade the laws of life, 
 as they present themselves to mortal view." 
 
 A servant summoned Dr. Warren at this mo- 
 ment, and Kent was left to pace the terrace alone. 
 
 " So he thinks Aveling to be in the grip of 
 natural powers which idiots shouldn't meddle 
 with. Now, why couldn't he say that in plain 
 language? Confound these English, anyway! 
 They make a man talk like a cuneiform inscrip- 
 tion." 
 
 Since the day when Kent first talked to him, the 
 old doctor had shown some shyness of the subject.
 
 162 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Kent's imaginative handling of Aveling's case he 
 could not follow, and, apparently, after the first 
 involuntary burst of wonder, did not try. It was 
 plain, now, that he had not been carried beyond his 
 own staid governance. Kent took his dry speeches 
 to mean that he had seen little to confirm wild 
 theories, and that he wished to emphasize his 
 friendly warning. 
 
 Kent paced solitary up and down the brick- 
 paved terrace, turning into the house at last, to go 
 to his room. Dr. Warren, with a disturbed and 
 anxious face, met him at the door. " I was just 
 coming for you. Mr. Aveling's condition is 
 rapidly changing. I may have need of you." 
 
 He motioned Kent to follow him to the sick 
 man's room. 
 
 " Is his condition growing worse ? " enquired 
 Kent. 
 
 " Alas, I cannot tell ;" the doctor's anxiety was 
 mingled with an uncertainty about his hold upon 
 the case that arrested Kent's attention. 
 
 " There are elements in it that escape the usual 
 medical diagnosis ? " pursued Kent. 
 
 Dr. Warren gave a brief assent. 
 
 Kent thought a moment. His next question 
 evoked the doctor's most professional manner. 
 " WTiat would Mr. Aveling's chances be if 
 this were an ordinary case, without complica- 
 tions?"
 
 CHALLENGED 163 
 
 " I should say he would be a dead man within 
 twenty-four hours." 
 
 They walked the rest of the way in silence. 
 Outside the hallway that led to Aveling's room 
 Dr. Warren paused. " This is a case requiring 
 more than medical skill. You possess an influence 
 over the unhappy patient which may save his life 
 when the crisis comes. Prepare your mind and 
 nerves for a severe strain." 
 
 " There will be a crisis, then ? " 
 
 " There always has been." After a moment, 
 during which Kent remained silent, the doctor led 
 the way into the room where Aveling lay. 
 
 Dr. Warren advanced to the bedside. Aveling 
 was still asleep, but the purple flush was gone. 
 He breathed easily and regularly, a slight moist- 
 ure was visible on his forehead. The doctor laid 
 a finger on his pulse. A moment later he motioned 
 Kent to follow him out of the room. His face 
 wore a look of utter astonishment. Kent waited 
 for him to speak. 
 
 " Ten minutes ago I left him on the verge of 
 the usual crisis. It comes in the form of demoni- 
 acal possession, and here he sleeps like an infant, 
 like an infant," he repeated the words in utter per- 
 plexity. " One can make nothing of it." 
 
 " The danger is past? " asked Kent. 
 
 " Apparently he has skipped one stage of these 
 attacks. He will sleep a while, and then wake,
 
 164 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 sane and quiet." He bent his head in thought, 
 looking strangely disturbed. " Go and have some 
 luncheon, and then return. I want yours to be the 
 first face he sees when he wakens." 
 
 Kent was struck by Dr. Warren's expression. 
 A sense of shifting values showed plainly in the 
 old, weather-beaten face. 
 
 " Why do you want him to see me first? " Kent 
 asked. 
 
 There was just a perceptible pause. " Mr. 
 Kent, I begin to hope that Mr. Aveling may yet 
 be spared. But for you he would, undoubtedly, 
 be dead." 
 
 " Except for me ! I thought I caused the at- 
 tack." 
 
 '* Perhaps you did. But you saved him from 
 something worse." 
 
 " How could it have been worse ? " Kent asked 
 in surprise. 
 
 Dr. Warren bent the keenest scrutiny upon him. 
 
 " Do you know the cause of Mr. Aveling's mid- 
 night visit to the gallery ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then realize the wonder of it. If he had en- 
 tered that fatal gallery his problems would be 
 over, for he was going to his death, after the man- 
 ner of his race. And, as I live, I believe that you 
 held back the approach of Roxmoor's doom ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE MESSAGE 
 
 THREE days later Kent called upon Dr. Warren. 
 The doctor closely scanned the young man's face, 
 which bore signs of the heavy strain that was 
 being made upon him. 
 
 " I know what you want," Dr. Warren said 
 abruptly. " To have me tell you that you don't 
 need a vacation." 
 
 Kent nodded. 
 
 " Well, you do," he said roughly. " Now, what 
 are you going to do about it? " 
 
 " That's what I want you to tell me. Why, I 
 fall into a very devil of a temper if any one is so 
 impertinent as to rattle a newspaper." 
 
 " Go out under the sky for a day," said Dr. 
 Warren, locking his great hands together. 
 
 " But is it safe to leave Aveling? That's what 
 I really came to ask." 
 
 Dr. Warren moved a paper-weight upon his 
 desk. 
 
 " No one of us is omniscient, but I believe Mr. 
 Aveling will need your services more, after a while, 
 than he does now. I repeat, go out under the sky 
 165
 
 166 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 for a day. Don't strain your nerves too far, they 
 are too valuable; and don't, for your life, take 
 midnight strolls in Roxmoor." 
 
 " I didn't go very willingly on the first one," 
 Kent ruefully returned. " But, perhaps, it was 
 just as well. If it hadn't been for me he would 
 have gone into that horrible gallery. Why don't 
 they wall up the thing? " 
 
 " Fate cannot be outwitted, Mr. Kent. What 
 must be, must be. Besides, I might remark that 
 experiments along that line have not encouraged 
 their repetition." 
 
 Kent looked curiously at the solemn, impassive 
 countenance, dimly hinting the surge of an im- 
 placable fate. " Well," he slowly began, " I sup- 
 pose I am not made that way. I'd like to try 
 a tussle with the powers that govern these grim 
 episodes." 
 
 " Did you feel so much confidence the other 
 night with the grip upon your throat ? " 
 
 Kent glanced up, startled. " Is that the way 
 they die? " 
 
 " Yes, we found the late Mr. Aveling with prints 
 of fingers upon his throat, strangled to death." 
 
 Kent rose hastily from his seat. " Then, I must 
 go at once back to Roxmoor." 
 
 Dr. Warren put a finger upon his wrist. " Take 
 my advice, I have lived among these horrors for 
 a lifetime. Spend the day in the open, it is a
 
 THE MESSAGE 167 
 
 perilous necessity. You are sound and vigorous, 
 but your pulse is under fifty. Do not return to 
 Roxmoor until sunset, and your pulse will be run- 
 ning at normal speed." 
 
 Kent paused irresolute. 
 
 " I know what I am talking of," said the old 
 man kindly. " The vampire of Roxmoor is drain- 
 ing you, too, or you would not have been led into 
 the gallery the other night. But we'll sell you 
 dear, my boy, we'll sell you dear," he laid a 
 friendly hand upon the young man's shoulder. 
 Kent met his gaze squarely. "Will Ned be safe? 
 Mrs. Aveling has not yet recovered." 
 
 " But Watson is on guard. Whatever escapes 
 his cat-like watch no one will see. Besides, Mr. 
 Aveling is probably safe from attack; for the 
 impulse to seek that ordeal will not return so 
 soon, unless he invites it, which is quite unlikely." 
 
 Kent was persuaded, and spent the rest of the 
 day rambling through the country-side, returning 
 late in the afternoon, refreshed and strengthened. 
 When he came in sight of Roxmoor Dr. War- 
 ren's words flashed through his mind, and he laid 
 a finger on his pulse. It bounded through his 
 veins, a full, vigorous flood. He went on a little 
 more thoughtful and concerned. 
 
 The sun was low in the sky when he came up the 
 lime-bordered avenue. The long, level rays struck 
 full against the clump of copper beeches to which
 
 168 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Aveling had called his attention the day he came 
 to Roxmoor. Its artful setting interested him. In 
 idleness he drew nearer to it. A thick growth of 
 pine-trees stood behind it. His eye was caught 
 by evidences of a concealed path, or at least over- 
 grown. He pushed aside the underbrush and 
 stepped in. A pathway, choked with weeds and 
 brambles, wound into an otherwise impenetrable 
 thicket. Kent picked his way through, growing 
 more curious every minute, and finally emerged in 
 a spot so desolate that it seemed impossible the 
 place could belong to well-kept Roxmoor. 
 
 It was an open court, surrounded on three sides 
 by a thick grove of pine-trees. The fourth side 
 was formed by a flat wall of the castle. In its 
 prime it must have been a place of gayety and 
 laughter. Now the arbors tumbled in decay; 
 vines, nourished by the damp air of England, over- 
 ran everything with a mass of tangled drapery. 
 The rank growth of unpruned trees choked up the 
 entrances. Broken arches, and stained columns 
 were smothered in moss. Even the wind sighed in 
 mournful cadences, a requiem to a vanished beauty. 
 In the centre stood a fountain, once a thing of 
 loveliness. Now only a thin stream of water 
 trickled through the stagnant pool in the broken 
 basin. A figure, poised lightly in the centre, had 
 lost both arms. The meaning of the action, dis- 
 appearing with the mutilation, lent the whole foun-
 
 THE MESSAGE 169 
 
 tain an air of ineffectual effort, together with the 
 suggestion of a noble impulse, thwarted by some 
 crippling circumstance. 
 
 Kent advanced further into the court, wonder- 
 ing at the strange motive which had decreed that 
 spot so fair should be given over to ruin and 
 decay. He wondered, too, at the artful intention 
 which concealed the entrance. In their explora- 
 tions, Aveling had referred to it as a grove of 
 pine-trees, and there was nothing to belie his 
 words. Kent looked up at the gray wall fronting 
 him, unbroken, except for a series of closed shut- 
 ters, and a window which projected slightly and 
 ran to the roof. Every barred window increased 
 still further the mystery that hung over it. It 
 bore an acute resemblance to a closed, stricken 
 face. 
 
 As his eye travelled over the mute facade, it 
 was detained by a dark blot in the lower part of 
 the projecting window. The casement stood ajar. 
 Was any one in the room behind it? What er- 
 rand could bring anything human to this old and 
 ruinous portion of the castle? 
 
 Kent crossed the thick, weedy grass. A gray 
 pine-tree stood near the open window. A scarlet 
 vine crept among the branches like the drip of 
 blood. Advancing to the window Kent put his 
 elbows upon the ledge and looked in. A long, 
 lofty chamber stretched away from the window
 
 170 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 where he stood. At one end was a cavernous fire- 
 place, such as Mid-England required for family 
 comfort and hospitality. It might have been such 
 a banqueting-hall as, in a ruder age, rang with the 
 troubadour's song and the boisterous gayety of 
 the wassail bowl. 
 
 But there was evidence that, in a later time, a 
 sober, saddened heart had swept out the song and 
 laughter and filled the place with another spirit, 
 groping painfully with the elements of a darker 
 experience. A row of book-shelves, running up to 
 the black-beamed roof, extended entirely around 
 the room. They were closed up with solid doors. 
 A few clumsy pieces of furniture, worm-eaten and 
 darkened with time, stood about; while, glim- 
 mering through the shadows, Kent discerned the 
 rusty implements which betokened a constant prac- 
 tice of unholy arts. 
 
 It was a gruesome place to contemplate, but it 
 stirred deeper emotions in Kent. In the whole 
 dank atmosphere and suggestion of unhallowed 
 trespass upon infernal regions, there came to him 
 a strong analogy to the haunted tower and its 
 solitary chamber. For, in the shadows that glided 
 spectrally through the deserted room, he saw Avel- 
 ing, standing before an open case, clutching with 
 eager haste one book after another, feverishly ex- 
 ploring its leaves as if for papers, and then push- 
 ing it impatiently back to its place. Sometimes
 
 THE MESSAGE 171 
 
 he ran his arm back of a row of dusty volumes, 
 always to move on again, with mounting interest. 
 
 Kent put his hands upon the ledge and lightly 
 vaulted through the window. Aveling turned a 
 white, staring face, in which struggled up the fire 
 and fury of a demon, and with the leap of a mad- 
 dened wild beast sprang upon Kent. 
 
 With cracking limbs, Kent held back the furious 
 attacks, falling in blind rage, without method or 
 meaning, except for the passion which had trans- 
 formed the man into a demon. Kent's cool brain 
 gave him the advantage that he needed, and from 
 time to time his quick hands laid a numbing 
 clutch upon Aveling's exhausting efforts. Gradu- 
 ally, he felt the lessening vigor that stole through 
 the writhing frame. He began to push him back- 
 ward, until Aveling rested against the closed book- 
 shelves. Kent put an iron hand upon each fast- 
 weakening arm, and pinioned him, helpless and 
 glaring. 
 
 A pallor stole over Aveling's face, he began to 
 tremble. 
 
 " Well, old fellow, I can wrestle a bit yet," said 
 Kent, hoping to rescue a hopeless situation. But 
 his cheery words fell dead and lifeless. 
 
 " Let me go ! " said Aveling hoarsely. 
 
 Kent dropped his arms. The strength of the 
 Invader vanished, and only the weakened frame, 
 whose drooping Kent had daily watched, remained.
 
 172 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Aveling sank into a chair. He laid his arms upon 
 a table, and putting his head upon them, gave him- 
 self over like a man in extremity. 
 
 Kent stood motionless until the shaking figure 
 at the table grew a little quieter. Then he laid 
 his hand on Aveling's shoulder. " Come, Ned. 
 Let me take you to your room," he said quietly. 
 
 Aveling raised a distorted face. " Kent will 
 you ever forgive me ! " 
 
 " Nonsense, boy. Why, it was just a friendly 
 tussle." 
 
 The horror in Aveling's eyes chilled him. " No, 
 Kent I meant to murder you." 
 
 Kent stepped back involuntarily as Aveling 
 clawed at the thick edges of the table, swaying as 
 if hypnotized. " I don't know what I am whether 
 man or beast or a horrible mixture " 
 
 "Come, Ned don't let's talk about that now. 
 I am going to take you to your room. You need 
 rest." 
 
 But Aveling did not heed. He seemed to defend 
 himself. " Listen, Kent. I dared to venture out 
 alone to-day. I let him take me, soul and body, 
 and I don't know, clearly, what happened, until 
 you came. I only remember suffering the pangs 
 of death, and then I came to life again, in the 
 fever of a terrible passion. But the awful part 
 of it was that I did not lose myself. I was two 
 men in one; my soul had been invaded by a spirit
 
 THE MESSAGE 173 
 
 abhorrent to me. And when I saw your face I 
 did not know you; you seemed to be that other 
 person I loathed and tried to strangle, and I 
 sprang upon you to kill. Don't you see, Kent? 
 Don't you see? " he questioned feverishly. 
 
 " See what, Ned? " 
 
 " I must go on;" his wild eyes tried to meet 
 Kent's, but they wavered as if his volitional pow- 
 ers had been broken. 
 
 " Why? " urged Kent. He felt the blood pound 
 in his ears. Maybe he could wrench Aveling's 
 secret loose, and learn why the uneasy dead came 
 back. 
 
 " I must go on," he said in a thick voice. " If 
 I go into the jaws of the infernal I must know 
 what it is he wants of me." 
 
 " Does he want you to tell him something? " 
 Kent whispered, fearful to break the spell. 
 
 " No no. To do to do ! He wants me to 
 do something, and I can't find out what it is ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE SURRENDER 
 
 AVELING and Kent were lounging in the Red 
 Parlor. At a nearby table Mr. Bateson sat look- 
 ing over a mass of papers. He had come down 
 from London the night before. Instead of work- 
 ing in the room devoted to business, Aveling, for 
 some inscrutable reason, had invaded the Red 
 Parlor, where Kent was apt to sit alone during 
 these interviews. 
 
 The morning wore on monotonously. Mr. Bate- 
 son scratched busily, copying what he extracted 
 from the papers, which Kent noticed were old and 
 worn, into a small red note-book. The quiet of 
 the room, and the rhythmic noise of the moving 
 pen produced a curious sensitiveness of attention 
 in Kent. He was conscious of every stroke of 
 Bateson's pen, and he noticed that every time he 
 moved Aveling started in his chair. 
 
 He threw down the book he was reading, and 
 rising from his chair, sauntered to a window. He 
 yawned and stretched out his arms, striking Avel- 
 ing, who had followed him, full in the face. " Good 
 
 174
 
 THE SURRENDER 175 
 
 gracious, Ned ! " he exclaimed. " I'll be hauled up 
 for assault and battery if I go on like this." 
 
 Aveling smiled faintly. " I thought you might 
 be going out and I wanted to go along," he said 
 wistfully. 
 
 " Do you want to go for a walk? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't care," he replied indifferently. " I 
 just thought you were going." 
 
 Kent regarded the landscape in silence. As he 
 turned away from the window his attention was ar- 
 rested by the peculiar actions of phlegmatic Mr. 
 Bateson, whose face blazed with animation. He 
 nodded significantly in Aveling's direction, and 
 made some incomprehensible gestures, all of which 
 greatly mystified Kent. He was still more puzzled 
 when, a little later, Aveling moved toward the 
 door, and motioned him to follow. Kent obeyed, 
 feeling like a puppet in a dumbshow. 
 
 Aveling struck into a quicker gait in the cor- 
 ridor, with an apprehensive manner, and a nervous, 
 occasional glance at him, from which Kent gath- 
 ered that he was expected to play a part, the 
 nature of which was yet entirely dark to him. 
 He preserved a steady and imperturbable com- 
 posure, watching his companion at intervals. 
 
 Aveling seemed to grow more nervous. His 
 roving glance sought Kent's more frequently and 
 left it with a sense of irritation. They were near- 
 ing the entrance to the picture gallery. At a
 
 176 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 little distance Aveling paused and looked at it 
 with sombre regard, and then turned abruptly 
 away. 
 
 ** There are certain data which Bateson needs. 
 He is preparing a short history of Roxmoor. 
 Come with me into the Italian Wing, I want to 
 verify some of his work." 
 
 Kent obediently followed, comparing notes in his 
 dryest manner. He noticed that Aveling stopped 
 with elaborate care at every familiar place the 
 ancient tapestry, a marble image of some illus- 
 trious saint, and the shrine-like niche where the 
 dim portrait hung in the darkened chamber. He 
 mentally asked a rueful pardon, for Aveling 
 seemed to evoke his sympathy and aid. After 
 some time was spent in this fruitless manner, 
 Kent felt constrained to answer, in some way, 
 Aveling's vain attempts at co-operation. " I'm 
 afraid, Ned, that my wits are cruelly dependent 
 upon that crude contrivance we call a language," 
 he ventured. 
 
 He was baffled by a light laugh from Aveling, 
 who remarked that the lunch hour was near. Con- 
 versation turned, by some weird caprice, upon Eng- 
 lish politics, which, just then, were full of lively 
 interest, and luncheon, at which they were joined 
 by Dr. Warren, was a very cheerful experience. 
 
 After the meal was over, Kent strolled into the 
 Red Parlor with Mrs. Aveling, where he was to
 
 THE SURRENDER 177 
 
 wait for the others, consulting together on busi- 
 ness in another room. When that was finished 
 they were to proceed together to the picture 
 gallery. Aveling said he wanted Kent's advice 
 about the lighting, which needed improvement. 
 
 Kent was struck afresh by Mrs. Aveling's frail 
 appearance. The carefully laid rouge did not de- 
 ceive him ; nor her forced appetite and spirits at 
 the table. She bent over a bit of sewing now, but 
 her manner betrayed suppressed excitement, and 
 she often glanced up as if expecting something. 
 
 At the sound of Aveling's voice calling loudly 
 for Kent, she rose hastily to her feet, and as Kent 
 passed her on his way from the room, she caught 
 his arm. 
 
 " He has given up to you," she whispered. 
 " Can you save him ? " 
 
 She was looking at him with dumb asking, as 
 if that loved life lay in his gift. He understood 
 now Bateson's mysterious gestures, and Dr. War- 
 ren's veiled hints at luncheon. All three doc- 
 tor, lawyer, and wife expected him to see Avel- 
 ing through some ordeal, and Aveling, no doubt, 
 meant him to use the hint gained yesterday. The 
 old lord wanted him " to do " some stated thing, 
 and Aveling's present venture, whatever it was, 
 pointed to that end. A dreadful sense of his 
 own impotence sickened him. He saw despair 
 dull Mrs. Aveiing's face as she watched his.
 
 178 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " Have faith, dear Mrs. Aveling. We will do 
 our very best," he said bravely. 
 
 " Is that all you can say ? " The grief in her 
 words told that some inward stay sank. 
 
 " It is all I dare say," he replied, the truth 
 wrung from him by the sheer impossibility of fac- 
 ing her with a lie. He bowed as her hand slowly 
 dropped from his arm, and with lowered eyes 
 passed through the door. 
 
 Aveling, with a light flow of talk, led the way 
 to the gallery. He threw open the door, discuss- 
 ing the various theories of light, and the possible 
 use of prisms to divert the rays into dark corners, 
 circling about the vast chamber until he stood be- 
 fore the portrait of the Templar. A rapid and 
 startling change came over him, as if he had 
 masked for a while, and now brushed away a 
 hindrance. His hesitation had been swallowed up, 
 and in its place a stern and man-like resolution 
 invited Kent to join a warfare. He now began to 
 speak, with an intense, dramatic fire. 
 
 " There be deeps within the human soul, where, 
 perchance, may lie treasures. But only one can 
 go below to search, and the other " he paused 
 with an impassioned gesture " the friend will 
 wait, and, maybe save." 
 
 With a swift movement, he stepped within the 
 circle of light, which the daytime made invisible. 
 His whole frame was shaken in convulsions,
 
 THE SURRENDER 179 
 
 and the Templar, in all his melancholy stateliness, 
 stepped forth. 
 
 Kent staggered back, for Dr. Warren had said 
 this was the ordeal which no Aveling survived. 
 Their greatest care had been to prevent such a 
 stimulation of memory as might produce it; and 
 now he had, apparently, connived with Aveling in 
 this dangerous experiment. Kent turned about, 
 white to the lips. " My God, Warren ! How 
 dared you let him go ? " 
 
 The doctor stopped him with a hasty gesture. 
 
 " Take courage, friend. The day of miracles 
 has returned." 
 
 "Miracles?" 
 
 " Yes, for no Aveling has ever had the fortitude 
 to seek that awful change. It has only occurred 
 by the driving of some irresistible force. But some 
 mysterious element you put into him nerved him 
 to the trial, and after the last test of your power, 
 I could not refuse consent." 
 
 Kent watched, with fascinated eyes, the strange 
 figure moving slowly away to pause before the por- 
 trait that hung beside the Templar. " What does 
 he hope from such a mad experiment? " he asked, 
 in a husky whisper. 
 
 " That he may find it possible, if your reason- 
 ing is correct, to venture into the dread land of 
 another personality, and be sure of safe return. 
 If his purpose should succeed, and you can recall
 
 180 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 him, he may yet wring his salvation from the 
 powers which control the human destiny." 
 
 He paused, for Aveling had started up with a 
 stifled cry. He ran his hand across his head, and 
 then, with terrible haste, sped through the vast 
 apartment, toward the entrance. Warren, in 
 trembling excitement, seized Kent. 
 
 " Go, man, and quickly. His life is in deadly 
 peril!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE ANSWEE 
 
 KENT followed Aveling, watching closely. But, 
 beyond the fact that he was on some kind of 
 search, Aveling's actions were without significance. 
 There was apparent neither method nor order 
 in his movements, rambling aimlessly through the 
 endless corridors, with a disagreeable resemblance 
 to a lost soul seeking Paradise. He wandered into 
 the apartments which his ancestral double had oc- 
 cupied in life ; and the vast hall, where the old lord 
 had pored eagerly over black-letter books, or 
 worked strange spells with the rude chemistry of 
 the age ; even straying to the deserted court, which 
 had been his solace in its day of beauty. 
 
 By careful observation, Kent discovered that, 
 after each baffled hunt, there came a period of 
 confusion, and that Aveling always returned to 
 the picture, as if to secure, in his groping senses, 
 the new starting-point his failure asked. Beyond 
 this, there was nothing gained. He went mechan- 
 ically over the weary round, until signs of ex- 
 haustion began to appear in his increasing pallor 
 and flagging step. But he kept steadily on, with 
 181
 
 182 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 machine-like precision, testing panels, and search- 
 ing closets as if for hidden recesses. 
 
 After some time had passed, he came to a sud- 
 den halt before the portrait in the gallery, an 
 eerie repetition of the vanished man, knocking so 
 insistently upon the thin walls which lie between 
 the living and the dead. But he did not find the 
 trail again, and began to tremble, making flurried, 
 helpless motions, showing plainly slackening signs 
 of the Invader's power. Dr. Warren stepped for- 
 ward and touched his arm, but he did not notice. 
 Warren, with solemn emotion, beckoned to Kent. 
 
 " Now is the time. See if you can recall him." 
 
 A thrill of fear shot through Kent. Suppose 
 that he should fail ! Suppose the inscrutable laws 
 which guard a spiritual world from rash invasion 
 should foil his purpose to enter the hell of Avel- 
 ing's lost consciousness, and burst its sepulchre. 
 For one horrible moment he suffered the pangs of 
 failure. Then, thrusting the possibility out of 
 his mind and marshalling his energies for the ac- 
 complishment of his purpose, he stepped forward, 
 and grasping both Aveling's shoulders, spoke 
 quietly in his ear, an old boyhood call, " I say, Ned, 
 I'm here. It's Kent." 
 
 A slight shiver passed through Aveling. His 
 bright, friendly eyes uncovered, and the old an- 
 swer left his lips. " All right, Kent. I'm here, 
 too."
 
 THE ANSWER 183 
 
 With this triumph in his mind, Aveling fell to 
 his task with renewed vigor. The fatal time was 
 surely drawing nearer. Kent, with a new grasp 
 upon the behavior expected of him, kept close by 
 Aveling's side, who now passed almost completely 
 under the power he no longer tried to keep at bay. 
 His frequent transformations told heavily on his 
 strength. Kent watched with redoubled vigilance, 
 but the swiftly passing days brought them no 
 nearer to the hoped-for end. Aveling's nights be- 
 gan to be troubled. He rose as if in a trance, 
 and continued his weary search, until Kent's faith 
 in his own reasonings began to flag. He could 
 make no use of the willing tool that lay in his 
 hands. Where did the fault lie? In the relaxation 
 of mind and courage, the general belief in the 
 doom of Roxmoor gained horrible power to weigh 
 him down, for Aveling's fearful night-walks were 
 full of danger to them both. 
 
 Late one afternoon, fagged and weary, he sat 
 alone in the Red Parlor, running the matter over. 
 In a week the fatal birthday would be on them, 
 and he hoped for nothing now, from the daily 
 round of the desolate rooms, which he made in 
 Aveling's wake. He strove to think of some other 
 way to handle circumstances, or some other place 
 to seize the mystery. He again went carefully 
 over Aveling's movements, when, like an offering 
 of fate, there returned the memory of the mys-
 
 184 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 terious grave beneath the willows. Ke started 
 up. Aveling was somewhere in Watson's care. 
 He might go to the grave alone. 
 
 Spurred by a faint hope, he hurried out through 
 the hall, when he saw Mrs. Aveling descend the 
 great stairs. A ray of light struck full in her 
 face, and in its radiance, Kent saw a terrible 
 transformation. A sudden misgiving seized him. 
 Perhaps he had done wrong to rouse her to fresh 
 hope, for he realized, in the cruel light, that she 
 was little able to meet the keen grief of a second 
 disappointment. It was not so much that she was 
 pale and thin that caused Kent's consternation. 
 But a dreadful blight seemed to have settled about 
 her youth and bloom. She came on down the 
 stairs until she stood before him. With her hol- 
 low, gray eyes, she directed his attention to the 
 wall, where a calendar hung. A slender pencil 
 of light fell through the casement, and brought 
 the date into clear relief, white figures on a black 
 ground October twenty-six. Only five days re- 
 mained. 
 
 Mrs. Aveling devoured Kent's face, and a great 
 hunger overspread her own, as if she asked him to 
 be more than human. With a motion of despair, 
 he bent his pained eyes upon her. " Heaven knows 
 I'll guard him like my own soul," he said in a deep, 
 shaken voice. " But, pray to all your gods to send 
 me some assurance that I am of any use to him ! "
 
 THE ANSWER 185 
 
 and without another word, he passed swiftly 
 through the door, and away from the house. 
 
 He hurried to the cemetery, still hoping for 
 some result from his fruitless visits. It had fallen 
 on him like a spell that the gods must send him a 
 sign, or his courage would fail. A fleece of clouds 
 gathered in the west did not promise success for 
 his venture, and just as he set foot inside the gate, 
 they passively quenched the burning disk. 
 
 " Do the very stars in their courses war against 
 us ? " he thought in impatient anger as he passed 
 along the path to where the grave lay. 
 
 He looked intently at the slab of marble which 
 had raised emotions so profound in Aveling. Care- 
 fully he scanned the weather-worn surface. 
 Slowly the clouds in the west lifted, and the sun 
 streamed out. Kent gave a sudden start and bent 
 over the stone, eagerly examining it. Then he 
 withdrew a pace or two, and a look of wonder, 
 even horror crossed his face. The long, horizontal 
 rays of late afternoon struck across the grain of 
 the stone, revealing every changing tint and con- 
 tour and undulation. With deep wonder he saw, 
 starting from the depths of the granite, as if 
 drawn by a human hand, the face of a woman 
 gazing straight at him. 
 
 As he continued to look he felt something 
 steal over him, the consciousness of being watched. 
 He raised his eyes to search for that spell, and
 
 186 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 saw, directly in front of him, framed about by 
 a thick tangle of leaves, the same eyes, the eyes 
 of the tombstone. They were the same, but liv- 
 ing, and in a human face, which was screened by 
 the protecting leaves. They looked straight at 
 him, but they were friendly eyes, and not un- 
 known as he quietly realized. He glanced back at 
 the stone, and started. The eyes there seemed to 
 borrow life and color from the living ones above. 
 The eyes among the leaves were the questioning 
 ones of a child; these were the same, but burning 
 with the knowledge of the human pilgrimage, as if 
 life still held, for the soul that owned them, the em- 
 blems of an ageless sorrow. Again Kent's glance 
 shifted to the living eyes. Only a second, they 
 stayed to meet him, and silently, with a slight 
 shaking of the leaves, were gone. 
 
 Kent lost all thought of time, until some one 
 clutched his arm, and he knew Aveling was there. 
 He involuntarily glanced at the tombstone. Avel- 
 ing saw his meaning shift of look. " Did you see 
 it? " he asked eagerly. 
 
 " I saw a woman's face," said Kent. 
 
 A great joy flamed into Aveling's face. 
 
 " Thank God ! " he fervently exclaimed. 
 
 Kent made a gesture in the direction of the 
 gravestone. " What does that face mean to you? " 
 he asked in some surprise.
 
 THE ANSWER 187 
 
 Aveling stepped back. " Come and see," he said 
 simply. 
 
 They returned to the house, and Aveling led 
 the way to the picture gallery, pausing before the 
 portrait of a woman which hung beside the 
 Templar. And there glowed, in a sudden revela- 
 tion, the same deep eyes. Other scenes and memo- 
 ries shifted in Kent's brain, the faded picture 
 in the deserted bed-chamber, the eyes on the 
 tombstone, the eyes in the leaves, he groped a 
 little further, and seemed to see, in the shadow of 
 an overhanging fate, a child, standing by a road- 
 way, a wistful child with friendly eyes He 
 
 started back, and shouted, " Little Mariola ! " 
 
 He was stupefied by his own discovery. " What 
 does it mean, Ned ? " he said in bewilderment. " I 
 don't understand." 
 
 " Neither do I. But I've always known, with 
 that conviction which is better than knowledge, 
 that Mariola had some vital part in the fatality 
 at Roxmoor. And now that you have seen the 
 face on her mother's gravestone, I feel fresh as- 
 surance that we'll break through the tangle." 
 
 " I still don't understand," said Kent. " Who 
 is this woman whose picture hangs here, and what 
 has she to do with Mariola and her mother? " 
 
 " This picture is a portrait of the Templar's 
 wife, whose name is also Mariola. How her name,
 
 188 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 and even her very features, came to be reproduced 
 in this alien family, I know no more than you do." 
 
 Kent's thoughts returned to the quiet grave 
 and the level rays of sunset light which drew out 
 the face more clearly. " Why has no one ever seen 
 that face in the stone before ? " 
 
 " I think, now, it must be that it is only to be 
 seen by some favorable change of light, and I was 
 always alone when it appeared. I have dragged 
 every one here, but no one saw it. Then I banked 
 on you, and you didn't fail me, Kent, you never 
 do!" 
 
 He wrung Kent's hand in both his own. Fresh 
 energy was visibly flowing in him. He spoke in a 
 tone . of deep conviction. " Kent, you'll help me 
 out of this bog yet. Never doubt that the good 
 God sent you here ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 STRIKING THE TRAIL 
 
 WHEN Kent and Aveling entered the hall they 
 found Lady Melton with Mrs. Aveling. 
 
 " Don't you think I am a nice person ? " smiled 
 her ladyship. " I have come to dine with you. 
 Betty and Lord Melton are coming, too." 
 
 Kent knew by the anxious gleam in her eyes 
 that she had come to relieve her forebodings about 
 them all, and he gave her a look that caused her 
 troubled countenance to lift. 
 
 The company which presently gathered was 
 quite subdued, except for Betty's lively chatter. 
 When dinner was over they formed a group 
 around the fireplace in the hall, where great logs 
 sent a blaze roaring up the chimney. The night 
 was sharp and chill outside. Kent withdrew a 
 little from the heat of the fire. Aveling instantly 
 stirred. 
 
 " Where are you going? " he inquired anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " I am going to get a more comfortable chair 
 for Miss Betty," said Kent, with hasty invention. 
 
 " But I don't want a more comfortable chair," 
 189
 
 190 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 flashed Betty, from a low stool in the chimney- 
 corner. " I am afraid you were not listening, 
 Mr. Kent, or you would know that I was reciting 
 Indian legends my own family tradition, if you 
 please and I wouldn't want to be comfortable 
 while telling these hair-raising tales of my an- 
 cestors." 
 
 Aveling's face blanched, his hands trembled, 
 and he half rose from his chair. No one saw 
 him but Kent. Aveling's movements were noise- 
 less. Betty was looking into the fire, her hands 
 clasped upon her knee. A half-smile played about 
 her lips. Kent put his hand heavily upon Avel- 
 ing's arm and, leaning forward, drew every one's 
 attention to the girlish figure dreaming in the 
 firelight. 
 
 " And besides " The meaning glance fin- 
 ished his sentence as it rested in open admiration 
 upon the picture in the chimney-corner. Betty 
 turned and met his look. The flush upon 
 her cheeks deepened as she again faced 
 the fire. 
 
 " It gives the story more dramatic force," she 
 said composedly. " My favorite great-grand- 
 mother had a fancy for the chimney-corner." 
 
 As she moved, the firelight brought into sharp 
 light the setting of a miniature hanging at her 
 neck. 
 
 " Is that her portrait ? " inquired Kent.
 
 STRIKING THE TRAIL 191 
 
 Betty put her hand upon the miniature. " Yes, 
 that is her likeness. It is one of Cosway's best." 
 She unhooked it from the chain. Kent came for- 
 ward to examine it. 
 
 " And did the Indians scalp and tomahawk her, 
 too?" 
 
 " Oh, dear no ! " laughed Betty. " She never 
 left England. She was an Earl's daughter, and 
 made a shocking mesalliance, married a ple- 
 beian; an elopement by moonlight it was, with all 
 the usual accompaniments, and from that branch 
 of the family we came." 
 
 " The usual accompaniments," mused Kent. 
 " I suppose you mean excommunication, and all 
 that." He glanced at Aveling, who had sunk into 
 a mood of indifference. He looked pale and 
 waxen, as if the life currents had been silently 
 withdrawn. 
 
 " Oh, yes, it was highly regular ! " Betty 
 went on. " She was roundly cursed by the Earl, 
 her father; and, although she begged at his door 
 one freezing winter night a few years later when 
 her husband was dead, he virtuously refused to 
 see her to his dying day." 
 
 " What a narrow escape ! " said Kent. " You 
 might have been an English nobleman." 
 
 " Yes, I often think of it. But the only thing 
 that gives me any real concern is the portrait 
 gallery. I could support with haughty scorn the
 
 192 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 worst that life could do, if I had a gallery full 
 of ancestral portraits at my back." 
 
 A thrill went through Aveling's frame, and life 
 and animation, invisible as an electric current, 
 flowed back to every feature as he spoke with quiet 
 dignity to Betty. " I believe you have not seen 
 the Roxmoor gallery," he said. 
 
 The girl started at the peculiar, vibrant voice, 
 casting a glance of fear over the circle. Aveling 
 pointedly addressed himself to her. 
 
 " Would you like to see it? " he asked, in full, 
 resonant tones. 
 
 " No that is, yes," she stammered. 
 
 Aveling at once ordered lights in the gallery. 
 Betty withdrew her fascinated gaze and looked 
 imploringly at Lady Melton, who came at once 
 to her side. " Don't fret," she said soothingly, as 
 she laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. " It is too 
 late now. All may yet go well, dear." 
 
 In spite of her reassuring words, Betty read 
 her fear. Lady Melton turned away and went to 
 Mrs. Aveling, leaving the girl incapable of speech 
 or motion, watching with mournful face Aveling's 
 directions to the servants. He seemed to be per- 
 fectly master of himself. Then Betty heard 
 Kent's voice in her ear. A vague comfort stole 
 over her as she met his eyes. She quickly put 
 her hand into the arm he held out to her.
 
 STRIKING THE TRAIL 193 
 
 " Do not fear," he said, in low, imploring tones. 
 
 " But suppose I have " She shivered and 
 
 her face was full of trouble as she again looked 
 at Aveling. 
 
 " But suppose I can " Kent smiled down 
 
 at her. 
 
 The light of an answering spirit shone in her 
 eyes as she lifted them to his. " You are a most 
 provoking tease," she declared, with a pale smile. 
 " But you are comforting." 
 
 They were the last to enter the gallery. It 
 was the first time Kent had seen it with leisure 
 to examine its characteristics. His former visits 
 had been hurried and anxious ones and the light 
 poor and insufficient. Now it was fully illumi- 
 nated a noble apartment of enormous size, 
 floored with rich mosaic, and ornamented with pil- 
 lars of whitest marble. Here, more than any- 
 where, was shown the flight of time. A motley 
 collection of pictures of every degree of merit 
 thickly covered the walls ; the earliest Italian mas- 
 ters; some unknown men of genius, antedating 
 even Italy's great period, down through the ebb 
 and flow of Art's great moments to the best of 
 contemporary effort. There were old, darkened 
 portraits from the Middle Ages; some of them 
 stood a noble testimony to the care of ancient 
 painters; some of them had completely receded
 
 194 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 in shadow, leaving only here and there an uncer- 
 tain light or gleam of color where a prominent 
 feature or a gay robe had been. 
 
 The sense of awe that pervades the halls of Art 
 subdued the talk, and the company fell apart in 
 little groups. Kent and Betty moved slowly 
 along the wall, studying the canvases and ex- 
 changing comments. They halted before a row 
 of portraits four young men accompanied by 
 four women. All of them bore evidences of recent 
 work. The fresh paint glittered; the gold upon 
 the heavy frames looked garish in its newness 
 beside the mellow tints that predominated in the 
 vast apartment. Kent stood so still and stared 
 so fixedly at the pictures that Betty looked up. 
 His face displayed the premonition that seemed 
 to leap out of the spot of newness in the old. 
 
 " Who are they? " Betty quickly asked. 
 
 " I don't know," Kent returned, adding in a 
 lower voice : " Come, quick away from here. 
 Aveling is coming this way." 
 
 A moment later he was discoursing, with all 
 possible nonchalance, upon the beauties of a Hol- 
 bein portrait, an old man with a pair of lean, 
 bony hands crossed upon his lap; a thin, ascetic 
 mouth, and that assurance of likeness which true 
 portraiture always gives. 
 
 " Well, Kent can't you find anything better 
 than that old ascetic for Betty to look at ? " Avel-
 
 STRIKING THE TRAIL 195 
 
 ing came forward. " You come with me. I'll 
 show you a row of Gainsborough and Romney 
 beauties that will make you wonder what Kent 
 does with his eyes." 
 
 Kent watched them go off, and then quickly 
 searched the hall for Lady Melton. With a few 
 rapid strides he was at her side. 
 
 " Will you take pity on me and escort me safely 
 through the centuries ? " he asked, adding whim- 
 sically, " It is my youngness again." 
 
 "Youngness? Why not youth? " 
 
 " Because there is hope for youth," he said 
 dramatically. " Youth is of the future, while 
 youngness can only wither and fall, but never 
 ripen." 
 
 " I am consumed with sorrow for your pitiable 
 state," said Lady Melton, with A musical laugh 
 as she placed her hand upon his arm. 
 
 She kept up a light flow of talk, Kent drawing 
 her insensibly toward the row of fresh portraits. 
 She started when she saw them. 
 
 " For God's sake, don't stop here ! " she said 
 passionately. 
 
 " Who are they ? " was Kent's low, imperious 
 demand. 
 
 " The last four heirs," she panted. 
 
 " Ah, I see, who all died at thirty-five." He 
 felt her glance leap upon him. " Did they all live 
 at Roxmoor for any length of time?"
 
 196 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " Three of them lived here for short periods 
 of time. The last one lived here just three weeks." 
 She still breathed a little fast. " It was horrible," 
 she finished, shuddering. 
 
 Kent leaned toward her. " Lady Melton, why 
 were you so frightened ? " 
 
 She glanced hurriedly at Aveling. He was com- 
 ing in their direction. Betty was evidently ill at 
 ease, but she was talking bravely. Lady Melton 
 began hastily to examine a picture. 
 
 " He does not know that they all died at 
 thirty-five. We have used every device to keep 
 him from knowing it." 
 
 Kent was running over the curious matter of 
 the portraits. There seemed to be more in it than 
 Lady Melton had disclosed. 
 
 " By whose order were the portraits painted? " 
 was his next question. 
 
 Lady Melton's voice trembled. 
 
 " By the present master." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " As soon as he came to Roxmoor." 
 
 Kent considered a moment. 
 
 " Did he seem to be especially anxious about 
 it?" 
 
 She threw back her head and met his eyes 
 squarely. 
 
 " It was the first sign of of the usual change 
 that comes to the unhaj>py master of Roxmoor."
 
 STRIKING THE TRAIL 197 
 
 She recoiled, for a most amazing change had come 
 over Kent. 
 
 " The first sign as if he were in haste about 
 a duty ; as if he were impressed to be hasty ? " He 
 stopped, with an enquiry in his voice. 
 
 "Yes," faltered Lady Melton. 
 
 " Tell me, of what did the late Mr. Avel- 
 ing die ? " he asked, with a sudden change of 
 tone. 
 
 " He was found dead." 
 
 "But of what did he die?" he repeated, with 
 dogged emphasis. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," she said composedly. 
 
 " And they the autocratic and infallible they 
 what do they say ? " 
 
 " Neither do they know, nor any other 
 creature." 
 
 Kent was struck by the lingering expression in 
 the last word. 
 
 " Creature no creature knows," he said mean- 
 ingly. Lady Melton's cool, crisp tones cut in. 
 
 " There be things of the earth, earthy ; and 
 there be things of the spirit;" and then with a 
 quick change of voice, " The two make a very 
 queer mixture, Mr. Kent." 
 
 He turned her about with a slight movement, 
 and she found herself facing the Templar. She 
 hastily stepped back. 
 
 " It seems like a live thing," she said.
 
 198 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Kent was watching the niche below, with its 
 faint radiance. 
 
 " Lady Melton, why does that lamp burn 
 there?" 
 
 " It was one of the provisions of the Templar's 
 will that a lamp should always burn there." She 
 hesitated. " It is said the Templar caused the 
 niche to be made, and left his curse upon the 
 house should any neglectful son forget his duty." 
 
 "And has the lamp always burned?" 
 
 "Alas! no." 
 
 "When did it go out?" 
 
 " That is not known." 
 
 " And when was it re-lit ? " 
 
 " During the incumbency of the present 
 master." 
 
 "At what time?" 
 
 " Just thirty-one days ago." 
 
 He faced her in open astonishment. " Since I 
 came ? " 
 
 " Since you came." 
 
 Kent's mind sped back. That must have been 
 just before the revelation in the gallery. Then 
 
 it must have been Like a vivid experience 
 
 it all returned to him. He saw Aveling's swift 
 passage through the corridor, and Bateson 
 stealthily following with an unlighted taper, that 
 day he watched from a corner of the deserted 
 wing.
 
 STRIKING THE TRAIL 199 
 
 He stared in silence at the niched lamp, then up 
 at the saturnine visage of the Templar. He 
 shifted his position slightly and allowed his gaze 
 to rest upon the canvas next to it. 
 
 " Lady Melton, did it ever occur to you that 
 there should be some reason for the likeness of 
 name and face between this ancient lady and our 
 small friend, Mariola? " 
 
 She started, as if he had touched a subject of 
 painful thought. " Could it have any connection 
 with the trouble of my friend, Mme. Barotti ? " 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 " Mariola's grandmother, a lovely soul, who 
 lives in an isolation as strange as Mr. Aveling*s." 
 
 Kent flashed an eager look upon her. " Tell 
 me what you mean?" 
 
 " Mr. Barotti, Mariola's father, is under the 
 spell of a curious hate for the master of Rox- 
 moor, whoever he may happen to be, and, in the 
 recent rapid change of succession, has been 
 wrought into a frenzy at times. Now I see some 
 meaning in it. Mr. Aveling stands for this no- 
 ble lady, and Barotti stands for Mariola, with 
 this curious bar of hate between them." 
 
 " But Aveling does not hate," said Kent. 
 
 " What does he feel ? " she eagerly asked. " I 
 know he loves Mariola." 
 
 " He feels impelled to find something in the 
 manor, and, combined with this, an unaccountable
 
 200 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 wish to give to Mariola and her father. Now 
 here we must use a little invention. The old lord 
 wishes to give. Aveling feels an inclination to 
 give to Mariola, but cannot make his impulse take 
 any definite form. Now suppose the formulated 
 wish of the Lord Aveling is to give to the Barotti 
 family. There must be some reason for it, some 
 tie of blood, or some obligation deep enough to 
 defy the oblivion of ages." 
 
 Lady Melton was searching his face with a 
 wistful struggle, as if she dared not take the hope 
 he offered. " Your words startle me with hints 
 of something I only vaguely understand. How 
 can you smile over this dreadful thing? " 
 
 " Because I feel the first ray of real happiness 
 I have known since I came to this accursed place." 
 
 " Why ? " she asked, in breathless suspense. 
 
 " I see, for the first time, a way out of Ned's 
 entanglement ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXVIH 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE LIGHT 
 
 THE following morning Kent was walking at 
 a brisk pace through a by-path little frequented. 
 It was grass-grown and nearly lost to the eye. 
 In the morning light Kent was seen to be per- 
 ceptibly aged. His usually fresh color had be- 
 come ashy, his expression was of perpetual strain. 
 He did not spare a glance for the landscape about 
 him. When it did intrude upon his meditations 
 as he sent an occasional glance over the bleak 
 stubble, it brought something withering, almost of 
 hate, into his darkened countenance. Everywhere 
 he looked it spoke of death. The trees were al- 
 most bare. His senses sickened at the sight of 
 ruined castles and abbeys, and the crowded ceme- 
 teries, glimpsed through the thinning foliage, peo- 
 pled the very earth beneath his feet with continual 
 reminders of bygone lives. A passionate excla- 
 mation broke from his lips, " Oh, for the breath 
 of that dear land where the axe rings in virgin 
 forest and the plough rips up the primeval ocean 
 bed!" 
 
 201
 
 202 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 A look of fresh interest sprang up in his jaded 
 countenance at sight of a low, rambling building 
 which a turn in the path revealed. He was puz- 
 zled to make it out as he drew nearer. It was 
 not large enough for a manor-house; and yet 
 something of dignity and importance gave assur- 
 ance of its being more than a mere farmhouse. 
 He halted for a moment, running his eye over 
 the diamond-paned casements, the ivy that heav- 
 ily draped the walls, and the clustered chimneys 
 that rose from the roof. A few rooks circled in 
 the air above the house. The tinkle of a sheep- 
 bell sounded faintly. Otherwise there was no sign 
 of life about. Instead, there was a silence which 
 struck the attention, coupled with a closed, in- 
 hospitable look about the whole place that did 
 not promise a welcome to the stranger. 
 
 Kent stood with his hand on the gate, think- 
 ing over the odds and ends of knowledge which 
 he had picked up. So this was Mariola's home 
 Saxholm Grange he had been told they called the 
 place, and by every sign they were not peasants 
 at all, but some incalculable cross between the 
 peasant and the lord. His countenance bright- 
 ened and his step was lighter as he passed through 
 the gate and knocked at the door. It bore an 
 old-fashioned knocker of carved brass and great 
 beauty. 
 
 By good luck Mariola opened the door and, with
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE LIGHT 203 
 
 her friendliest smile, invited him to enter. He 
 stepped into a large hall. Its size was somewhat 
 unexpected. It was dark, even gloomy, but he 
 received an impression of stateliness, as if some- 
 thing noble had been masked. This impression 
 contrasted oddly with something of the ascetic's 
 scorn that nowhere left tangible marks, and yet 
 so dominated the apartment that one read it like 
 a human trait. Although Kent had never ex- 
 changed a word with the master of Saxholm 
 Grange, that person stood revealed. It might al- 
 most have been an ancestral gift, that magnetic, 
 compelling force of personality. 
 
 He did not have long to receive and arrange 
 the impressions that crowded on him, for Mari- 
 ola crossed the floor with light steps and knocked 
 at a closed door. He had only time for fleeting 
 glimpses of what looked like family portraits, 
 some rare furniture from the Middle Ages, and 
 specimens of old silver or pewter, he could not be 
 sure in the gloom of the hall, when Mariola 
 turned the knob, pushed in the door, and beckoned 
 him to enter. He stepped across the threshold. 
 
 If he had been astonished before, he was at 
 a loss to express his feelings now. Every step 
 into this curious house revealed fresh and deeper 
 mysteries. The man he had known as Mariola's 
 father wore the garb of a common laborer; and 
 yet, as Kent remembered, that scorn of the out-
 
 204 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 ward shapes of circumstance which was so clear 
 and strong a note of the daily living here. This 
 room was the home of a scholar, of one possessed 
 of liberal culture and a vital knowledge of the 
 deep things of the soul. A long room, lined on all 
 sides with bookcases, which reached the ceiling at 
 one end. There were pictures and bronzes and 
 marbles. Over the mantel hung a Romney por- 
 trait, a bewildering beauty, all pink and pearl. 
 And yet there was nothing lavish, everything had 
 been placed with a sparing hand, ringing an end- 
 less change upon the manner of this peasant-lord 
 which had so baffled Kent before. 
 
 But there was an occupant of the room to whom 
 Kent was obliged to pay his devoir. A stately 
 person, to whom Mariola presented him. " My 
 grandmother, Mme. Barotti," she said, with a shy 
 smile, and quietly left the room. 
 
 Mme. Barotti was dressed quite simply in black, 
 her white hair neatly folded under a lace cap. 
 Her manner was full of English reserve, but Kent 
 observed she had Mariola's friendliness. He sur- 
 mised that she might not be unwilling to further 
 his ends. She invited him very civilly to a seat, 
 and then bent to her work, some homely knitting, 
 a pair of great mittens. 
 
 Kent was at a loss. It was one thing to re- 
 solve upon this visit; it was quite another to 
 extract useful information from the very collected
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE LIGHT 205 
 
 person opposite, clicking her needles in great 
 composure and who, for all Kent knew, might 
 preserve that placid silence the rest of the morn- 
 ing. He racked his brain, but every idea was 
 dismissed as fast as it came. He watched the 
 needles for what seemed an endless time ;then some- 
 thing above invited his attention. He looked up, 
 and rose from his chair with a startled exclama- 
 tion. Mme. Barotti regarded him in slight sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but " Kent was staring 
 at a picture hanging on the wall " is that a 
 portrait? " 
 
 Mme. Barotti followed his eyes to the pic- 
 ture, a grim-faced man of middle age. His hair 
 was turning white. 
 
 " It is one of our ancestors," she said quietly. 
 
 The fire in Kent's face leaped into a blaze. 
 
 " When did he live ? " he asked abruptly. No 
 answer was returned. He looked hastily at Mme. 
 Barotti. She was regarding him with gentle dis- 
 dain, a spark of anger in it. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Kent. " It was sur- 
 prise that made me rude." He waited. 
 
 " He lived in the time of Elizabeth," said the 
 gentlewoman's voice. " He was one of the notable 
 men of the Reformation." 
 
 "A Protestant?" 
 
 Mme. Barotti inclined her head. She dropped
 
 206 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 her eyes and fell to knitting again. The furtive 
 glance she occasionally directed at Kent betrayed 
 some inward disquiet. Kent looked again at the 
 portrait. A Protestant, and the Templar to whom 
 he bore so strong a likeness was a devout Catho- 
 lic. The same fanatical temper burned furiously 
 in both. 
 
 There was something deeper still in the mind 
 of the woman opposite, of which Kent caught but 
 a gleam. There was something behind her trem- 
 bling silence, an appeal to the human current 
 flowing beyond her reach. So far Kent could 
 read. His hopes were running high. He con- 
 tinued to regard the picture. 
 
 " If you had not told me that it was a portrait 
 of your ancestor, I should have thought it was 
 one of Mr. Aveling's." 
 
 Now he had snapped her cool reserve. She 
 dropped her work, with a string of startled Italian, 
 as if, under the pressure of emotion, she had lapsed 
 into a more familiar tongue than her precise Eng- 
 lish. Kent did not speak. After an interval she 
 gathered up her knitting, but her old hands trem- 
 bled like leaves in the wind. 
 
 " That was why I asked you when he lived," 
 went on Kent. 
 
 " And when did this this ancestor of Mr. 
 Aveling live ? " she asked. Her features worked 
 excitedly.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE LIGHT 207 
 
 " He lived in the twelfth century." 
 
 This piece of information completed Mme. 
 Barotti's undoing. She clasped her hands to- 
 gether and bent her head. Kent saw a tear roll 
 down and fall upon her work. He rose to his 
 feet. 
 
 " Don't go ! " She raised an imploring face and 
 motioned him to his seat. " Forgive the tremors 
 of an old woman. These agitations are only for 
 the young." She brushed away the tears that 
 glistened on her soft, old cheeks, and then turned 
 to him. He became aware that some barrier be- 
 tween them had melted. 
 
 " There is some mysterious tie between Mr. 
 Aveling's house and mine that has cast a gloom 
 upon us these many centuries," she began. 
 
 " Centuries ! " echoed Kent. 
 
 " The Grange can boast a line almost as long 
 as Roxmoor," she said proudly. 
 
 " Forgive me I did not know. I was only 
 wondering at the strength of this tie, which could 
 endure so long and not snap," he said enig- 
 matically. He lifted a glowing countenance to 
 the old one regarding him in curious quiet. 
 
 " Mr. Aveling is an old friend of mine," he 
 said, in a thrilled voice. " His life, we believe, 
 is in danger and we are trying to save it, if we 
 can." 
 
 " My daughter's husband is not friendly to the
 
 208 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Avelings," she said, with a sharp withdrawal from 
 the co-operation he seemed to ask. 
 
 " Yes, I know. But Mr. Aveling is most anx- 
 ious is impelled to serve your grandchild and 
 her father." 
 
 The forces friendly to his cause which were at 
 work within broke down the last defence. Mme. 
 Barotti dropped her eyes and seemed to think. 
 Then she raised them full upon Kent. 
 
 " I feel some strong compulsion to confide in 
 you. Will you swear to use the information I 
 shall give you to serve us and Mr. Aveling's 
 extremity ? " 
 
 " Gladly." 
 
 She sank back in her chair. When she again 
 looked at Kent something like a dim hope shone 
 in her face. " It is our century-old sorrow that 
 I am about to tell you. It has shut us away from 
 human contact in a chill and solitary separation, 
 and somehow we must break its power." 
 
 The note of passion that rang through her 
 last words came with startling force from the 
 delicate, old lips through which it sounded. She 
 began her story in a low, clear voice: 
 
 " Mr. Aveling's ancestor of the twelfth cen- 
 tury was pleased, for some reason, to shower 
 benefits upon our ancestor of the same period. 
 Saxholm Grange itself is a gift from him, and 
 we have the tradition of numerous benefactions.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE LIGHT 209 
 
 There was a fitting sense of gratitude preserved 
 within the family for two centuries. Then a 
 younger son of the house was seized with a sort 
 of mania on the occasion of a visit to Roxmoor. 
 He conceived a violent dislike for the place and 
 its people and endeavored, by every means, to 
 inoculate the family with his pestilent hate. Fail- 
 ing in this, he left home in a fury and was never 
 heard from again. 
 
 " The family, meanwhile, lived on in the Grange, 
 but a coolness grew up between the two houses, 
 the result, in part, of capricious treatment by the 
 Roxmoor family. Now they showered attentions ; 
 again they passed our people with blank faces. 
 These hostilities have continued, with few inter- 
 ruptions, to the present time. 
 
 " My husband died young, and I took my 
 daughter, our only child, to the Continent to fin- 
 ish her education. She met there a young man 
 of fine Italian family, but saturated with so- 
 cialist tendencies. They were married, and we 
 returned to England. In the course of the fol- 
 lowing year my daughter's husband was found 
 to be descended from the missing son of our house, 
 so they are of the same blood. My daughter and 
 I were inclined to be friendly with the Avelings, 
 but her husband still cherishes the ancient grudge. 
 And there my sorrow lies. For to me the past is 
 buried with its misunderstandings, but Barotti
 
 210 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 still draws us all into his gloom and solitude. 
 Roxmoor has some fascination for Mariola, and 
 her father is in torment when she is there, and 
 
 between them " She paused, with a trembling 
 
 lip, and, clasping both hands piteously together, 
 raised imploring eyes to Kent: "Do you know 
 any reason for this curious hate which animates 
 Barotti? It makes him bitter and solitary; and 
 yet I believe he cannot tell any more than you 
 or I why he hates." 
 
 Kent's face was keen with thought. 
 
 " Do you know any reason for the extraor- 
 dinary interest in your family shown by the Lord 
 Aveling? " 
 
 " No. There is no reason." 
 
 " Then, Mme. Barotti, when we find that, we 
 have the key which unlocks the riddle." 
 
 " Do not the records tell anything? " she asked, 
 in perplexity. 
 
 " That is what I mean to find out. Mr. Bate- 
 son, the family lawyer, will have any available 
 information." 
 
 Before she could speak again, the door was 
 flung open and Mme. Barotti, with a shrinking, 
 timid manner, presented Kent to the man who en- 
 tered, Mariola's father. It was an intensely dra- 
 matic moment for them all, for the master of the 
 Grange admitted few visitors, and Kent read that 
 closer drawn doors followed each invasion. From
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE LIGHT 
 
 Mme. Barotti's hurried and broken words he had 
 gathered that the exclusive life at the Grange was 
 becoming hermit-like and that the Madame's 
 friendly soul craved the solace of congenial 
 friends. Kent regarded Barotti closely. Be- 
 hind the man's hauteur there was something which 
 Kent was puzzled to make out, something that 
 belied his chilly manner, as if, after all, it was his 
 nature to be friendly. Kent decided to test him. 
 
 " Mr. Barotti, the necessity of a friend in great 
 danger was the cause of my visit here this morn- 
 ing. That same necessity may lead me to ask 
 an interview within a few days. Should that oc- 
 casion arise, may I ask this indulgence? It is for 
 Mr. Aveling." 
 
 Mr. Barotti's gloomy visage did not change ex- 
 pression as he spoke. 
 
 " I know of no service which I can render Mr. 
 Aveling," he said harshly. 
 
 " There may be a service within your power 
 the saving of a human life." 
 
 Barotti's eyes flashed as they met Kent's. He 
 gravely inclined his head, with the attitude of 
 bending to a yoke. 
 
 " I would be little of a man," he said, in a 
 heavy, musical voice, " if I failed to meet the hu- 
 man claim. Command me at your leisure."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE CORE OF THE SECEET 
 
 KENT hurried through London's chill streets 
 the next morning at an early hour. The sky was 
 dark and lowering and the air was very cold. 
 Rain fell in a fine drizzle and the wind blew in 
 angry gusts. A heavy fog blotted out the build- 
 ings. The passing crowd was like a parade of 
 ghosts. Even the noise of the crowded streets 
 came muffled. Kent shivered with more than cold, 
 for on such a day the phantom that dogged his 
 steps seemed more alive than the unreal forms 
 about him which the fog spirited away into a 
 world of dreams. The tragic sense of an irrev- 
 ocable past, of the living force and power of 
 experience which exhales from bygone lives like 
 a tangible thing, was more forcible than ever in 
 this vast city, standing since the Caesars. The 
 life of the spirit remained immortal among time's 
 mutations. 
 
 Kent hurried faster, turning at last into an 
 
 arched doorway. He climbed several dingy flights 
 
 of stairs, searching until he found the name he 
 
 wanted. He was presently ushered into the pri- 
 
 212
 
 THE CORE OF THE SECRET 213 
 
 vate office of Mr. Bateson, who rose to meet him 
 with an anxious, solemn countenance. 
 
 " No, nothing has happened," said Kent, in 
 answer to his look. " But I am anxious to make 
 something happen. Have you a little time for 
 me? " 
 
 Mr. Bateson bowed with his grand air, never 
 forgetting his dignity as the adviser of a great 
 and important family. 
 
 " I always have time for Mr. Aveling's affairs. 
 I judge that you wish to consult me about them." 
 He motioned Kent to a seat. 
 
 Kent drew his chair to a table. Mr. Bateson 
 took a seat opposite and dryly watched pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Bateson, do you happen to know a 
 worthy gentleman named Barotti, owner of Sax- 
 holm Grange ? " 
 
 Mr. Bateson bowed. 
 
 " Do you happen, also, to know that gentle- 
 man's family history ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 Kent directed a keen glance at him. Mr. Bate- 
 son maintained his judicial dignity. 
 
 " Yesterday I had an opportunity to learn that 
 history," Kent went on. " Very interesting it 
 was." 
 
 " As you say, very interesting," softly echoed 
 Mr. Bateson.
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 At this point Kent experienced some annoy- 
 ance. He felt that it was not quite pleas- 
 ant to find such entire agreement, and began 
 afresh. 
 
 " I have only a slight acquaintance with Mr. 
 Aveling's ancestral history, of which we have had 
 some discussion before. It would now be of great 
 use to improve that acquaintance. I daresay you 
 could supply me with the means." 
 
 Mr. Bateson softly rubbed his hands together. 
 
 " You are aware of the book which I have in 
 preparation concerning Roxmoor," he said. " I 
 will show you what I have already written and 
 give you the original papers which I used." He 
 rose and went to a safe, which he unlocked and 
 drew out a mass of papers, depositing them upon 
 the table. Some of them were yellow and stained 
 and the writing nearly lost. 
 
 " These are the records of Roxmoor's past," 
 he said solemnly. 
 
 " Are they originals ? " asked Kent, as he saw 
 the ancient dates. 
 
 " Some of the originals are only fragments. 
 But their contents have been preserved with great 
 care, for the Avelings have cherished their heri- 
 tage. Many of these are copies, renewed from 
 time to time." 
 
 Kent was eagerly running them over. " What
 
 THE CORE OF THE SECRET 215 
 
 shall I do ? " he asked. " May I take them up 
 to Roxmoor? " 
 
 Mr. Bateson's manner became magnificent. 
 
 " I should not feel justified in allowing papers 
 so valuable out of my possession. But the room 
 is sufficiently commodious," with an impressive 
 wave of the hand. " I can promise you freedom 
 from interruption " He paused. 
 
 Kent touched the papers with his hand. " It 
 will take hours ? " he said. " You will be incon- 
 venienced." 
 
 Mr. Bateson bowed with just the right min- 
 gling of dignity and humility : 
 
 " It is in the service of Mr. Aveling ! " 
 
 It was hours before Kent had the main lines 
 of the story in shape, torn from old records of 
 birth and death, and from letters and journals, 
 written in unintelligible English. But the result 
 was full of illuminating thought. 
 
 The Aveling family was one of consequence 
 when William the Conqueror invaded England. In 
 the upheaval that followed the Battle of Hast- 
 ings they fled to Italy, the family estates falling 
 into the hands of the Norman nobles. There 
 were some confused traditions here of attempts to 
 regain the estates, but nothing authentic, until 
 the growing opulence of the family gave hopes of
 
 216 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 ultimate return to their native land. The Cru- 
 sades had given a tremendous impulse to com- 
 merce, and the Avelings grew rich in the trade 
 that whitened the Mediterranean. 
 
 Thus fortified, the head of the family attached 
 himself to the train of Henry Plantagenet, then 
 in France. His ascent to the throne restored the 
 Aveling estates, and they returned to England. 
 
 But long residence in Italy had wrought a 
 subtle change in the blood, so that English ways 
 and airs were irksome to their languorous temper. 
 Much time was passed in Italy, and an Italian 
 bride was brought to the manor. The rooms in 
 the so-called " Italian Wing " were hers, trans- 
 formed to give her the semblance of the Italy for 
 which she pined. 
 
 There was only one surviving child when this 
 pair died. The age was rude. Sickness and bat- 
 tle left only one, a late-comer in the home when 
 the rest were grown. This was a daughter, a 
 young, tender thing, who married early. Her hus- 
 band was slain in battle six months before their 
 son was born. It appeared to be a marriage 
 merely of convenience, and soon after the birth 
 of her child she fell in love with a nobleman at 
 the court, who hastened the nuptials, the rude 
 manners of the time putting no obstacle to his 
 plans, a strange, dominating personality, who 
 sprang up unknown in Henry's court. His wife
 
 THE CORE OF THE SECRET 217 
 
 fell completely under his influence, so that he was, 
 in effect, the lord of the manor. Within a year 
 she presented him with a son, dying at his birth, 
 leaving thus her true successor, the son by the 
 first marriage, in his power. According to her 
 will, her husband was to enjoy the rights and 
 place of the Lord Aveling during his lifetime, 
 when the estate would pass to the oldest son by 
 right of entail. This was a privilege of the reigning 
 heir, sanctioned by ancient custom in the fam- 
 ily, but long since fallen into disuse. Lady Avel- 
 ing, it would appear, revived this law, her hus- 
 band assumed the position of the heir, and, with 
 this power in his grasp, rose to a commanding 
 place in the English court. 
 
 It was an age of change of ruptured tradi- 
 tions of movement from a simple to a complex, 
 national life. At a time when Henry was cur- 
 tailing the strength of the feudal lords he took 
 much pleasure in this powerful figure among the 
 lesser nobles. The legality of the will by which 
 this desirable leader became the Lord Aveling did 
 not concern Henry; but the brilliant service he 
 rendered the king did. Step by step he rose in 
 the English court, always master of himself and 
 the shrewdest strategy which saw far into the fu- 
 ture, a strategy too profound for unalloyed 
 self-seeking. 
 
 Presently it appeared that the Lord Aveling
 
 218 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 had been summoned to Italy on some important 
 mission. When he returned, it was with lamenta- 
 tions and mourning robes. His elder son, he said, 
 had died suddenly in Italy of a fever. A small 
 coffin was placed with due honors in the family 
 tomb and a period of mourning observed. 
 
 There commenced here to creep evidences of a 
 disturbed and anxious mind into the ancient rec- 
 ords. By the time his son had reached his ma- 
 jority the old lord was a changed man. Another 
 journey to Italy was undertaken, and when they 
 returned they brought a new servant, a young 
 Italian, who had already become a favorite with 
 his master. It appeared the young man had left 
 his heart in his native country ; so the Lord Avel- 
 ing sent for the girl to come to England, for he 
 would not hear of the young man's absence. At 
 the wedding they were nearly buried under a 
 weight of gifts, among which were a house and 
 an annuity; and with this beginning the peasant 
 family acquired a permanence which ran steadily 
 through the records. Some indestructible tie 
 bound their fate together. 
 
 Now followed a period of still greater dis- 
 quiet in the old lord. None of his honors could 
 satisfy the tormented man, bending on his knees 
 until the cold gray of dawn in supplication to the 
 spirit of his dead wife. He feared to approach 
 himself the wrath of Heaven, and directed his
 
 THE CORE OF THE SECRET 219 
 
 prayers to that gentle mediator. But now he saw 
 another hope, as if in answer to his petition. The 
 flames of the Crusades lighted every corner of 
 Europe. The troubled man resolved to make the 
 pilgrimage to the Holy City and secure the bless- 
 ing promised. 
 
 It was then thought a most pious act to visit 
 the burial-place of saints and martyrs ; and that 
 prayers and tears of penitence, offered upon con- 
 secrated ground, could cleanse the blackest soul. 
 So the Lord Aveling was escorted out of his coun- 
 try by a great band of friends, carrying the gifts, 
 a staff and wallet, and the priest's benediction 
 upon his holy enterprise. 
 
 He travelled to the Holy Sepulchre, and prayed 
 upon every sacred spot which tradition had pre- 
 served; bathed in the holy waters of Jordan, and 
 brought the palm-branch to lay upon the altar 
 of the manor-chapel. He joined the Knight Tem- 
 plars and endowed inns and hospitals on the way 
 to Jerusalem, erecting shrines and crosses where 
 the devout pilgrim could rest and pray and gain 
 the indulgence of Heaven. For these pious acts 
 he was held in high esteem, and this, from his 
 journals, was his sharpest scourge. 
 
 This was the history from which Kent roused 
 himself as a clock, somewhere, struck the noon 
 hour. He leaned forward and touched a bell. Mr. 
 Bateson immediately appeared.
 
 220 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " It seems to me, Mr. Bateson, from these rec- 
 ords that a crime has been committed," Kent be- 
 gan. Mr. Bateson's expression was so bland and 
 self-possessed that he paused. 
 
 " Exactly," murmured excellent Mr. Bateson. 
 
 " A crime against an ancestor of the Barotti 
 family," said Kent. 
 
 " My own conclusion," purred Mr. Bateson. 
 He stood with one hand behind his back, the other 
 held his eyeglasses. His head was inclined slightly 
 forward, his eyes were dropped. He looked the 
 ideal repository of family secrets. 
 
 Kent stared at him for a brief space. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Bateson, was this knowledge not 
 used before ? " he asked sternly. 
 
 "What could it do?" enquired the cool voice. 
 
 " Why was it not used to solve the mystery ? " 
 Kent persisted, irritably rattling the papers upon 
 the table. 
 
 " How could it be used? " said Bateson softly. 
 " The old lord gained the inheritance by fraudu- 
 lent means, perhaps ; but how ? and who was de- 
 frauded? There are no papers you see the diffi- 
 culty. Reasonable men must have proofs. The 
 estate is large and important." There was the 
 faintest smile about his thin lips. " We could 
 not counsel Mr. Aveling to turn over his in- 
 heritance to the Barottis," he remarked, in a 
 deprecating voice. " That would be fantastic."
 
 THE CORE OF THE SECRET 
 
 Kent's ire cooled to the working-point. The 
 wrong which had been done was clear enough to 
 probable conjecture; but it was not susceptible 
 of proof. And, if it could not be defined in legal 
 terms, he could not put it in vital touch with the 
 ban upon wretched Aveling; and, so far as his 
 safety was concerned, the secret might have as 
 well have remained unknown. The real core of 
 the problem revealed itself with such sudden force 
 that he longed to tear the papers before him into 
 shapeless fragments, from mere desire to exert his 
 strength upon something. He wiped the moisture 
 from his brow and fell to gathering up the copious 
 extracts he had made. 
 
 " Let us hope, Mr. Kent, that the present at- 
 tempts will be more successful." 
 
 Kent sprang up at the sound of the cool, mock- 
 ing voice, and, with a few brief words, quitted the 
 room. 
 
 " It is a marvel how like a schoolboy my friend 
 Bateson can make a grown man feel," he said, 
 between his teeth.
 
 THE ONLY WAY 
 
 ROXMOOR looked more repellent than ever to 
 Kent as he approached that evening. It was 
 nearly dark when he arrived and only the tow- 
 ers and battlements were visible; the lights in the 
 windows glared like evil eyes. Mrs. Aveling 
 sprang up as he came in ; she had been weeping. 
 
 " Come, quick," she said, catching up a candle 
 as she sped across the hall. 
 
 Kent followed her rapid pace. She passed 
 swiftly on to the older portion of the house. 
 When they reached the secret panel she paused 
 a moment, with her hand upon the spring. 
 
 " He has been in the old library since last night. 
 We cannot persuade him to move." There was 
 an expression upon her face that drew a question 
 from Kent. 
 
 "Why did he go there?" 
 
 Her face quivered, but she mastered her- 
 self with an effort. 
 
 " He had been thinking had been very quiet, 
 and suddenly he rose from his seat, the glitter 
 
 of a horrible resolution in his face " She fal- 
 
 222
 
 THE ONLY WAY 223 
 
 tered and then went on : " His smile was dreadful 
 to see as he spoke : ' I am going for it, Aline. 
 
 Tell Kent. I am going ' And he sprang out 
 
 of the room before I could move." She stood 
 with a pitiful, quivering look. 
 
 Kent could not meet her eyes. What struggle 
 might issue, he did not know, but Aveling had 
 dared the final test. While Kent faced with unbe- 
 lievable horror the elements which disclosed the 
 only sure way, Aveling had taken the plunge 
 and alone! 
 
 A shiver ran through Mrs. Aveling as her worst 
 fears received confirmation in Kent's averted gaze. 
 She pressed the spring upon which her hand 
 rested, the panel slid open, and she stepped 
 through. 
 
 When they entered the library Kent could, at 
 first, make nothing out in the gloom. Then he saw 
 the glow of a lamp in the distance. As he drew 
 nearer he could see Aveling seated in a chair, the 
 whole man expressive of one in mental and moral 
 abandon. His countenance was vacant, his eyes 
 rolled wildly. As Kent approached he shivered 
 slightly. Kent laid his hand upon the nerveless 
 arm that was nearest. Aveling looked up, with a 
 wavering response : " Well, friend, thou hast been 
 long upon thy journey. Mayhap, Roxmoor is 
 dull to thee." 
 
 There seemed to be a struggle, as if the old
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 memories and habit overlaid and mingled with the 
 new. Kent waited a moment; Aveling's expres- 
 sion was brightening, his eye wavered less. Then 
 Kent spoke: 
 
 " Come, Ned, come with me." 
 
 Aveling rose at once. He leaned heavily on 
 Kent's arm as he was led back through the cor- 
 ridors to his room. They persuaded him to take 
 a little nourishment, and then he fell asleep. Kent 
 beckoned Mrs. Aveling out of the room. 
 
 " Do you realize how ill you are? " he sternly 
 asked. 
 
 " I don't know," she wearily replied. " You 
 were not here, and I could not leave him." 
 
 " I'll have no occasion to leave again," he said. 
 " But to-night you are going to have some rest. 
 You have had none since I left." 
 
 " I won't leave Ned," she said sharply. 
 
 " Mrs. Aveling, I shall have to think for you 
 in Ned's place," he said, in a firm, clear voice. 
 " And you are going to rest to-night, for Mary 
 Endicott and Lady Melton are coming to stay 
 with you. And you will go to the other end of 
 the house and sleep, if we have to drag you there 
 and tie you down." 
 
 Looking into his resolute face, she knew that 
 he would do it. " Won't you even let me share 
 his last few hours ? " she pitifully asked. 
 
 "Yes, when they come," he said solemnly.
 
 THE ONLY WAY 225 
 
 " But they will not be here, please God, for many 
 a year." 
 
 She sprang forward, eagerly clutching his 
 arm: 
 
 " You know something more. You have heard 
 something. Oh, don't keep it away from me ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Aveling, I know nothing more than you 
 do. I have gained a little further knowledge of 
 Roxmoor's history, and that is positively all." 
 
 " Then, why do you offer me this empty hope ? " 
 she wailed. 
 
 " Because it is not empty. Three days ago I 
 asked you to pray to all your gods." 
 
 " I did to the one good God I never doubt, 
 even in all this strange trial." 
 
 Kent started. " That was what Ned said," he 
 exclaimed, in wonder. " When that mysterious 
 face in the gravestone was revealed to me, he said, 
 as if in answer to what I said to you, the utter 
 despair I felt, ' Never doubt that the good God 
 sent you here.' And, although I know no more, 
 and see little further into the darkness, I hope, 
 with some strange assurance, that all will yet go 
 well with Ned." 
 
 Mrs. Aveling burst into a torrent of relieving 
 tears, and Kent led her away, returning after- 
 ward to his vigil in Aveling*s room. If Aveling 
 were himself when morning came, he meant to lay 
 the matter before him. But he set his teeth
 
 226 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 against the torment of a horrible foreboding. 
 Suppose that Aveling, in his own person, should 
 never again emerge from that oblivion where he 
 had plunged!
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE FINAL PLUNGE 
 
 AVELING slept soundly all night long, and woke 
 quiet and refreshed and in entire possession of 
 himself. After breakfast he asked for an inter- 
 view with Kent, and they were left alone together. 
 Aveling began at once to speak. 
 
 " The time has come, Kent, to make the last 
 throw," he said, with solemn earnestness. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," Kent replied, 
 " but I earnestly urge you not to act in haste. 
 Your reserves are small and we need time." 
 
 " There is no time left, Kent. It will all be 
 over, whether for good or ill, in three days." 
 
 Kent glanced quickly at him. Their secrecy 
 had not deceived him. Aveling went on : 
 
 " Caution is useless now. I have only one 
 chance, and the sooner I take it the better. But 
 I want to tell you first that it has been through 
 your untiring service that I have gained the in- 
 sight and the courage to take the final plunge." 
 
 "The final plunge?" 
 
 " Yes, I must give up myself and soul to that 
 horrible clamor." 
 
 227
 
 228 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " But you have done that," said Kent, wonder- 
 ing what he meant. 
 
 Aveling shook his head. " No, Kent, I have 
 never been quite frank with you, for, when the 
 soul lingers on the borders of extinction, it 
 answers but two instincts, secrecy and flight. I 
 could not formulate that dead man's conduct in 
 my own person, and I have never dared to give 
 up my whole self to what seems like annihilation. 
 Kent, never in Stygian caves can greater black- 
 ness yawn before the soul than that awful choice, 
 and yet it lies before me, and from it there is no 
 escape." 
 
 " But, Aveling," said Kent, appalled by the 
 man's terrible resolution. " You have tried this. 
 Don't run greater risks. You may be facing use- 
 less danger." 
 
 " That is where I have not been quite frank. 
 The old Lord Aveling hid somewhere the proofs 
 of another heir, and the way to find them is to 
 let him possess my body and reincarnate that 
 guilty act. I'd gladly give the manor and its 
 holdings twice over to escape this descent into 
 the shades of death. But nothing else will right 
 the wrong, nothing but the surrender of myself. 
 You know how carefully we have sacked every 
 corner of the manor, so this is the only way. 
 And the reason why that reincarnation has never 
 taken place is because, down in the depths of my
 
 THE FINAL PLUNGE 229 
 
 shivering soul, I kept something from surrender. 
 All but that small corner, body, voice, memory, 
 mind, but the essence and core of me I did not 
 give. And that is the price." 
 
 He did not speak for a moment. Kent felt a 
 blindness sweep over him, for he knew that this 
 was the way to put Aveling in vital touch with 
 the secret. Aveling began again, in a musing 
 tone: 
 
 " What pitiful stuff a human soul is made of ! 
 Last night I resolved to make this final test, and 
 left Aline, poor child, to endure the horror alone, 
 for I felt so sure of my strength and dared not 
 risk delay. But my resolution failed, Kent, for I 
 needed you, you, to put fire and whirlwind 
 into my heart and drive me into that place of 
 demons." 
 
 He drifted into a period of profound thought, 
 from which he roused himself with sudden vigor: 
 
 " Kent, I am a weakling. He and I may, after 
 all, be made of the same coward stuff. With all 
 his ghastly penances he could not take the only 
 step that was of any use. And neither could I 
 in that terrible loneliness. Except for you, with 
 your resolute grasp of vital law, your splendid 
 courage to venture into forbidden ways, I could 
 only miserably perish." 
 
 " You overrate what I have done," said Kent 
 gently.
 
 230 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 "No, Kent. You always cleared my course 
 with your wise, powerful head and your passion- 
 ate justice." 
 
 He broke forth again after a period of silent 
 musing : 
 
 " I must die die ! suffer the pangs of death, 
 go into the dim world of the disembodied and 
 become the instrument of a dreadful resurrec- 
 tion!" 
 
 His face glowed with a baleful lustre. The risk 
 of his fearful purpose was greater than anything 
 Kent had dreamed. Kent blindly reached out and 
 grasped his arm: 
 
 " Aveling ! I implore you, don't take that 
 awful risk ! " 
 
 " I must I have felt it from the first, the 
 struggle was always there, and now I am resolved 
 to go." 
 
 " Wait a little longer. Perhaps we can find an- 
 other way." 
 
 " Why, Kent, I am dying, anyway." He held 
 up his hand, transparent as a piece of alabaster. 
 " Look at that. Every drop of blood has been 
 drawn in the struggle. And, if I venture from 
 this room, I will fall an immediate victim of the 
 thrall, and some time it will master me. But now, 
 through the motive you have furnished me, there 
 is just this chance to break the curse. That dead 
 man wants something done, and, when I get his
 
 THE FINAL PLUNGE 231 
 
 will accomplished, I may be released. There is 
 no other way." 
 
 " But think, Ned. You are handling things 
 you don't understand. Are you even sure of what 
 you are going for? " 
 
 " Yes. The Lord Aveling hid somewhere proof 
 that Barotti is the rightful heir, and, if I give up 
 all my powers to him, he'll come and find the 
 hidden papers." 
 
 Kent spoke with slow and deep solemnity when 
 Aveling finished: 
 
 " Suppose, when this act of restitution is ac- 
 complished, you could not again possess yourself, 
 for you say you'll give him complete dominion. 
 Suppose the exchange of personality should be- 
 come permanent? " 
 
 " I have little fear of that" 
 
 " Think well, man. Would not a second op- 
 portunity seem doubly to be prized? Do you feel 
 so sure that life, with a fresh trial of its testing, 
 would have no charm for one who failed on his 
 first pilgrimage ? " 
 
 " Yes, by Heaven, I do ! If ever a soul knew 
 the awfulness of remorse, this man, who has borne 
 the scourge for seven centuries, can have no cour- 
 age for fresh iniquity or be tempted to filch my 
 chance away. Surely, Kent, we may give a tor- 
 tured soul that much charity." 
 
 It was the sweet brotherliness which had al-
 
 232 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 ways made Aveling so beloved. Kent looked at 
 the quiet, solemn face, and he seemed to see a new 
 Aveling, shorn of his mirth, but rising to meet 
 the responsibilities of his blood with the fortitude 
 and glory of the spiritual man which the human 
 pilgrimage wrings from the dust. It was the 
 chance of the cosmic process, bearing in blood 
 and tears the weight of another's sin to keep the 
 eternal justice true. For Kent knew that Avel- 
 ing's merry spirits were crushed forever, that not 
 even his elastic spirits could quite rebound after 
 so deep a descent into the mysteries of being. The 
 human destiny seemed doubly precious since its 
 dignity and worth might demand such ransom. 
 
 " Then you go without fear? " asked Kent. 
 
 " No, I have a deadly and consuming fear, 
 that my strength may fail me at the crisis and I 
 may not have the resolution to return. Then, 
 Kent, my fate rests with you." 
 
 He paused for a moment, and then resumed, 
 a deeper intensity of meaning in his face: 
 
 " Kent, did you ever consider the significance 
 that may lie in the lamp that burns beneath the 
 Templar's portrait ? " 
 
 " No I don't think I ever did," Kent slowly 
 replied. 
 
 " Then, think of this and seal it with hope and 
 courage. The Templar placed that lamp beneath 
 his picture and left his curse on any one who
 
 THE FINAL PLUNGE 233 
 
 should neglect to keep it burning. Some time 
 that lamp went out, and some time later a curse 
 befell the manor. But no one thought about the 
 lamp until I came and re-lit it." 
 
 Kent suddenly raised an illuminated face. 
 
 " Aveling, it must be that you are meant to 
 lift the curse." 
 
 Aveling nodded, a slight smile broke across his 
 pale lips. " I believe that somewhere it is writ- 
 ten that the fates mean kindly to our race, purged 
 of its ancient sin." 
 
 Kent's face kindled. 
 
 " I can let you go now, Ned, with some cour- 
 age. Tell me just what it is that you want me 
 to do." 
 
 " You are to go with me wherever I go and 
 keep alive that sympathy which runs between us, 
 for with that you'll drag me back, if a chance 
 remains. Keep your hand upon me and my ear 
 alive to your voice. Never let that link break." 
 
 Kent waited. "And then?" 
 
 Aveling turned his steady gaze upon him, and 
 deep within Kent saw a glow rise. 
 
 " Then, Kent, call, and, I swear by Heaven, 
 I'll come!"
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE MAN WHO EEAP8 
 
 AVEIJNG watched Kent quietly, and then said: 
 " Ask Dr. Warren to come to me. I am anxious 
 to begin." 
 
 Without a word Kent went out, and presently 
 returned with Dr. Warren, to whom Aveling 
 briefly told his purpose. The doctor merely nod- 
 ded and held his peace. Aveling's strength had 
 failed enormously over night. No Aveling had 
 ever survived the final test. Either way, it mat- 
 tered little in his judgment, and he watched the 
 last preparations in silence. Aveling gave some 
 directions to Kent in case he did not live, and 
 then shook hands quietly with Dr. Warren. 
 
 " Would you like to see Mrs. Aveling? " asked 
 the doctor. 
 
 Aveling's face quivered, but he turned a smile 
 of quiet confidence on Kent. " No I'll wait, for 
 I shall see her again," he said, in firm, clear tones. 
 He and Kent went out together. 
 
 Apparently, it was not the often repeated 
 change Kent had seen which was to place Avel- 
 ing's self in another's hands. He went quietly. 
 234
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 235 
 
 through the house, looking at the pictured Tem- 
 plar here and there, and betook himself to the 
 Italian Wing, for here lay the vital memories of 
 the man. Aveling went through the Wing to a 
 small oratory which opened off the bed-chamber, 
 and, kneeling before a tiny altar, gave himself up 
 to a season of devotion. Then he rose and, step- 
 ping backward, his eyes fixed upon a picture of 
 the Templar, lay there, silent and staring. 
 
 There was no sudden or startling change, but, 
 as Kent watched, one by one the links that held 
 Aveling to life snapped and he sank gradually 
 into a perfectly apathetic state. Kent judged it 
 best to summon the doctor, and together they 
 watched Aveling slowly fade out of life. When 
 an hour had passed, Kent touched his arm and 
 called, and Aveling made a slight response. Then 
 Dr. Warren tried, but he did not answer. He 
 moved only at Kent's bidding, seeming in his deep- 
 est apathy to retain obedience to Kent's will. 
 Otherwise he gave no sign of life. 
 
 At noon-day, Lady Melton came to beg that 
 Mrs. Aveling might see her husband for a mo- 
 ment. Some one opened the door into the ora- 
 tory. She glanced at the lifeless figure and wrung 
 her hands. Mrs. Aveling came into the hallway 
 where they were, and Dr. Warren motioned to let 
 her pass. 
 
 Only Kent was there when she knelt by Avel-
 
 236 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 ing's chair. There was nothing but the steady 
 rise and fall of his breath to tell her that he lived. 
 When she sobbed his name, and kissed and wept 
 upon his waxen hand, he made no more response 
 than a clay image might have done. 
 
 She grew quiet after a while, and, rising to her 
 feet, withdrew to a corner, watching him in si- 
 lence. Kent did not speak to her, but presently 
 he saw the lonely figure slip quietly from the 
 room. 
 
 Kent watched in agony that deadly wrestle of 
 soul with soul that stretched across the centuries, 
 laying low one after another, until this remnant 
 of the ancient stock remained alone. The thing 
 seemed so near, the matter so clear to reason- 
 able thought; but it taxed his fortitude to see 
 Aveling locked in that death-like submission to 
 another will where no one might reach him. For 
 hours the trance held sway. More and more he 
 came to resemble his dead progenitor. His pulses 
 slowed, he grew more pallid, his breathing deeper 
 and more machine-like ; his whole being more given 
 over to the bidding of that powerful will. It 
 began to wear the look of doom. 
 
 Toward the end of the afternoon Kent went 
 out upon the terrace for a stroll, to relieve the 
 tension of his mind. Night was falling fast as 
 he gazed out upon the valley; the world looked 
 wild and menacing. The sky was full of gray,
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 237 
 
 scudding clouds. On the horizon a yellow light 
 burned through, like eating fire. He turned away, 
 shivering slightly, as if the sullen clouds meant 
 evil. He paced along the stone pavement. Some- 
 thing overhead caught his eye and, as he looked 
 upward, a huge, black shape, like a bird of prey, 
 circled around a jagged turret. He watched the 
 flapping wings bear the ominous thing away, and 
 then, with a muttered curse for his own fore- 
 bodings, entered the house and returned to the 
 Italian Wing. 
 
 When he pushed open the door into the small 
 oratory it seemed so deathly still in there, as if 
 no human breath were drawn. The very shadows 
 were stricken with a motionless rigor. To one 
 side of the room Dr. Warren watched with folded 
 arms. 
 
 Aveling lay blank and silent as Kent ap- 
 proached. The motive and power which mark 
 the man had fled. He waited, as a swept and gar- 
 nished room might wait a tenant. He had reached 
 the lowest point to which his physical powers 
 could sink and yet return. His gaze was fixed; 
 nothing moved behind the empty windows of his 
 soul. Kent peered into a deserted habitation. 
 
 With a stirring of anxious dread, he placed 
 his hand on Aveling's arm and spoke to him. 
 There was not the slightest answering thrill to 
 show that Aveling heard. It could not be pos-
 
 238 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 sible he would not answer, thought Kent. He 
 tried again. But, heavily as he pressed the nerve- 
 less arm and loudly as he called, there was not the 
 finest chord that he could set a-quiver. The slen- 
 der thread along which Aveling's senses crept to 
 Kent had broken. There was not a single link 
 between them now. 
 
 A certainty of disaster seized Kent. He had 
 relied so steadfastly upon the holding of that tie. 
 It was the service which Aveling so confidently 
 trusted for his salvation. In its grasp he had 
 ventured among the powers of darkness to break 
 his thralldom, and now, between his lost soul and 
 safe return, there stretched a blank. Kent was 
 unprepared for such hideous defeat. He with- 
 drew a step and let the rising flood sweep over 
 him. 
 
 He knew nothing more until a cold rim pressed 
 against his lips. " Drink ! Drink ! " said Dr. 
 Warren. Kent swallowed the draught. 
 
 " Courage, courage. The battle is not over," 
 said Dr. Warren's solemn voice. 
 
 " But I have lost my hold on him," said Kent 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " I do not think so. I believe it was neces- 
 sary for him to pass beyond your summons for 
 a while." 
 
 " He made the trial only in the confidence that 
 I could recall him," said Kent.
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 259 
 
 " Yes, after the final test, when the papers have 
 been found. But in the search for them he must 
 go alone; for, after all, the burden is on the mas- 
 ter of Roxmoor. It is his to give or to withhold. 
 He alone is in the chain of sequences that lead 
 to the hiding-place, and only through him can 
 the guilty act be reborn." 
 
 He paused for a moment, as if considering 
 Aveling's painful travail and its relation to hu- 
 man discipline, as he strove to bring to this young, 
 vigorous mind the lesson of limitation which he 
 himself had learned in a lifetime of daily contact 
 with the mystery of suffering. His harsh face 
 was touched with feeling as he spoke, placing 
 a hand on Kent's shoulder: 
 
 " The service of brotherhood must yield to its 
 limitations ; for the human life, in its most tragic 
 moments, is solitary. The soul must bear alone 
 the curse of its blood. For the sins of the fa- 
 thers shall be visited upon the children, even to 
 the uttermost generation ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE MAN WHO SOWS 
 
 " BAROTTI refuses to come." 
 
 Kent looked in dismay at Dr. Warren, who was 
 speaking. 
 
 " But he promised to talk to me," said Kent. 
 
 " He says he will, gladly, in any place but 
 Roxmoor. His resolution on that point he de- 
 clares to be irrevocable." 
 
 Kent glanced at Aveling's motionless figure. 
 
 " Must you see Barotti ? " asked Dr. Warren. 
 
 " I feel that I absolutely must." 
 
 The doctor relapsed into silence. 
 
 " What are the chances of my being needed 
 here? " asked Kent. 
 
 Dr. Warren replied in his dryest manner. " As 
 you must see Barotti, and he refuses to come, I 
 see but one thing to do. I do not anticipate that 
 Mr. Aveling's wakening will be sudden. There 
 would probably be time to summon you. Little 
 more than twenty-four hours have passed yet." 
 
 " Then it would better to go at once." 
 
 Dr. Warren nodded, and Kent left the room. 
 240
 
 THE MAN WHO SOWS 241 
 
 The afternoon was clear and sharp ; last night's 
 sullen clouds had vanished. Kent, walking rap- 
 idly, soon reached Saxholm Grange. The door 
 opened just as Kent's hand touched the knocker, 
 and Mr. Barotti signed to him to enter. He led 
 the way to the library in silence, and, placing 
 a chair for his guest, fixed his dark eyes upon 
 Kent. They were tawny and wild to-day. 
 
 " I expected you," he said abruptly. 
 
 " Then let us proceed. I have little time to 
 spare." Kent looked down at the floor for a 
 moment's thought, and then raised his eyes. 
 " Why, Mr. Barotti, do you hate my friend Avel- 
 ing? " 
 
 A flame leaped into Barotti's eyes. 
 
 " Before God, man, I don't know ! " he said, 
 with a heaving breast. He clenched his hands, as 
 they lay upon the arms of his chair, until they 
 shone like marble. " I think it is that which raises 
 such a devilish passion in me that I don't know, 
 that there is no reason, and I yet hate. I, 
 Michel Barotti, the slave of a heedless generation, 
 ready to help a king or a beggar, it matters not; 
 bartering my life for the cause of the spirit, 
 yet degraded and lowered when I meet my own 
 soul in solitude and see there the stains of un- 
 brotherly hate ! " 
 
 The man became transformed as the words 
 tumbled forth in a fiery torrent, seeming to scorch
 
 24,2 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 the very air. He flung a withering glance at Kent, 
 as if he typified that overmastering fate. 
 
 After a slight pause, Kent spoke in a dry, 
 business-like tone: 
 
 " Did it ever occur to you that, in some past 
 century, an Aveling had wronged a Barotti ? " 
 
 As Kent watched, the man before him passed 
 through an amazing change. He started, 
 blanched, and then sank limp into his chair. He 
 made an effort to speak, but only a choked 
 aspirate issued from his throat. 
 
 " Because there is a strong probability of 
 wrong succession," Kent went on calmly. " If 
 you can give me any fresh facts, we can perhaps 
 get nearer to a solution of the matter." 
 
 Barotti put out a long, lean arm and grasped 
 Kent. His anger had vanished. He was pos- 
 sessed by an unwelcome thought, which began to 
 shape itself before his stunned senses. 
 
 " Do you mean that my child will have any 
 share in the inheritance ? " 
 
 Kent nodded. Barotti withdrew his hand and 
 sank into his chair, white and cowed. He began 
 to speak, after an interval: 
 
 " Pride in the human lot is a sorry thing. ' I 
 have been a just man, just in love and just in 
 hate, I thought, until " He started sud- 
 denly from his chair. " Why, it is part of my 
 life, man. I tried to throttle it. I stamped in
 
 THE MAN WHO SOWS 243 
 
 rage upon it. I led my child to his door when 
 I longed to tear out her eyes because they smiled 
 at him. But it gnaws like an eating fire." He 
 reared himself before Kent, glaring down at him. 
 " Man, I'd sell my soul to you, if you could wash 
 off this blot ! " He struggled for a little, and 
 then sank into his seat, shaken and trembling. 
 A few words came in faint whisper, " Ah that 
 terrible loss of self ! " 
 
 Kent, with a stupefied sense of the greatness of 
 human living, watched the struggle, in its essen- 
 tials a repetition of the grasp upon Aveling. 
 Neither this shaken being nor Aveling knew the 
 reason for the passions which swept their souls. 
 
 Barotti gradually resumed his accustomed 
 harsh self-control, and began at once, in a low 
 tone, a rapid recital of the history which Mme. 
 Barotti had given, dwelling with rude eloquence 
 upon that ancient Barotti who had raised the 
 quarrel. 
 
 " No one knows the cause of the man's anger. 
 He had been entertained at Roxmoor and returned 
 home in a fury. Failing in his attempts to rouse 
 his family, he renounced them and went to the 
 Continent. That terrible anger formulated itself 
 as a hatred of the rich and an espousal of the 
 cause of the poor. Naturally he found his way to 
 Italy, for the springs from which came that later 
 stream of philosophy and liberal thought, which
 
 244 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 was Italy's great glory, were rising, and his hot 
 temper was fit material for its moulding power. 
 From him came that loathing of class and privi- 
 lege which I have the honor to cherish as one 
 of my most precious endowments." 
 
 " There is no doubt that these two men are 
 identical? " 
 
 " None in the least. There are plenty of au- 
 thenticated documents." 
 
 Kent silently revolved the situation. 
 
 " Mr. Barotti, it is well to be prepared for 
 all things," he said, in a measured tone. " It may 
 chance that your child will be finally proven the 
 sole rightful heir to Roxmoor." 
 
 " What do you mean? " said Barotti, in a ter- 
 rible voice. 
 
 " I mean that the Lord Aveling of the twelfth 
 century may have gained the heritage for his son 
 by means of a forgery. In reading over the docu- 
 ments one might not think his penances more than 
 a fine man's sense of the guilt of the human lot. 
 But changing the point of view, made necessary 
 by the strange scourging of Aveling's blameless 
 life, it assumes a different look. It is clear that 
 the elder son did not die, but was left in Italy, 
 and afterward brought to Roxmoor as a servant, 
 and that this young man was the first master of 
 Saxholm Grange. Let me examine your papers 
 to be sure of my ground."
 
 THE MAN WHO SOWS 245 
 
 As the full meaning of Kent's words came to 
 Barotti, he leaped from his chair. 
 
 " My God, man ! I couldn't take that place," 
 he said, with hoarse pulls for breath. 
 
 " There will be time enough to discuss that 
 later," said Kent sternly. " Meanwhile, Aveling 
 is dying."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE BISEN SPIEIT 
 OCTOBEE 30! 
 
 Kent mentally consigned all calendars to per- 
 dition as his eye fell upon this date when he en- 
 tered the house. Mrs. Aveling appeared at the 
 door of the Red Parlor as his step echoed in the 
 hall. Her face was white as alabaster as she stood 
 against the oak panelling of the wall. She exam- 
 ined Kent's face with some anxiety, inviting him 
 to join the circle in the room. Lady Melton was 
 there, with Mary Endicott and Betty. Dr. War- 
 ren entered a few moments after Kent. It was 
 Lady Melton's voice that broke the silence, with 
 a note of agitation in its music. 
 
 " Mr. Kent, you have some hope for us." 
 
 " Yes, I think I have," he said. He drew 
 nearer to the fire and held his hands before the 
 blaze. " Ah ! that is good. The air cuts like a 
 knife to-night." 
 
 Each one in the group furtively scanned his 
 face as he bent shivering over the fire. It was not 
 like him; his splendid health rarely felt the cold. 
 
 " Your heart, perhaps, can cast out the chill 
 246
 
 THE RISEN SPIRIT 247 
 
 with its secret hope," said Lady Melton mean- 
 ingly. 
 
 He gave her an understanding smile. " Per- 
 haps I am a little selfish," he said, but he did not 
 go on at once. He noticed that Dr. Warren 
 quietly slipped from the room, summoned by Wat- 
 son's sphinx-like visage appearing in the hall. 
 Leaning back in his chair, he presently began to 
 recite the story gathered from so many sources. 
 A deep silence fell upon his listeners, for in Kent's 
 flowing narrative they saw Aveling issue from the 
 struggle a re-created man. As soon as his voice 
 ceased, Mrs. Aveling spoke: 
 
 " Then, if the old Lord Aveling usurped the 
 place of the true heir, we can right it all by re- 
 storing the inheritance to Barotti." 
 
 " But we are not in possession of the documents 
 which prove this," said Kent gently. 
 
 " We could give it to Barotti, anyway," she 
 said, nervously twisting her hands. 
 
 There was a brief pause. " Barotti refuses 
 to take the property without proofs," said Kent, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 Mrs. Aveling's face fell. " Is there no way to 
 get the proofs ? " 
 
 " There is only one way I know of." His words 
 rang with intensity of feeling. Every face in the 
 firelight lifted as Kent went on : " If Ned could 
 be made to live through that period of Lord Avel-
 
 248 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 ing's life when the wrong was done, he might re- 
 hearse the deed and reveal the place where the 
 papers lie." 
 
 " And how can that be done ? " 
 
 " Some suggestion must strike the trail at the 
 right time for action," said Kent. " And when 
 the time comes, any chance word we say to him 
 may forge or break the chain." 
 
 Mrs. Aveling started from her seat, with paling 
 cheeks. " What is that ? " she whispered. 
 
 Dr. Warren had appeared on the threshold, 
 looking anxiously about. Kent sprang up. 
 
 " Tell me what is wrong? " begged Mrs. Avel- 
 ing. " Has anything happened ? " 
 
 " There is a change in Mr. Aveling's condition. 
 His pulse is rapidly mounting. I think Mr. Kent 
 had better come." 
 
 The two men set off together, and, as they 
 neared Aveling's apartment, heard the deep, 
 sonorous tones of the Templar. They quickened 
 their steps. Aveling stood in the centre of the 
 old bed-chamber as they entered, a dramatic, 
 commanding figure. With an intense self-con- 
 sciousness upon him, he had bent a stern, accus- 
 ing eye on Watson, who stood before him: 
 
 " Peace, thou prating varlet ! Bring me the 
 garments I am wont to use. Whence come these 
 ill-befitting robes?"
 
 THE RISEN SPIRIT 249 
 
 Watson was holding the Templar's garb. Avel- 
 ing*s irritation increased at the sight. 
 
 " Thou art a worthless knave, with thy indo- 
 lence. What doth the Lord Aveling with things 
 like these ? " He held up the Templar uniform, 
 ran his eye over it, and contemptuously flung it 
 aside. " See if thou hast an eye within thy head. 
 Perchance, it may alight upon a more proper 
 wear." He finished with a half-humorous 
 sarcasm. 
 
 Watson fell back, aghast. Aveling turned 
 away, and, dropping into his easy-chair, seemed 
 to lose himself in thought. As he paid no at- 
 tention to their movements, one after another 
 slipped from the room and gathered in the hall, 
 a pale and silent group. 
 
 "For God's sake, sir! What shall I do?" 
 gasped Watson. 
 
 Dr. Warren's face wore an anxious concern. 
 
 " What are we to make of this, Mr. Kent? 
 This is, no doubt, the personality he wished to 
 raise, but it has appeared at a different point, 
 and, unless we can give him the connection, he 
 will be unable to reproduce the period that is 
 necessary." 
 
 " It must be that he has gone back to an earlier 
 period of Lord Aveling's life," said Kent. " It 
 was quite late in life that he became a member of
 
 250 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 the Templar brotherhood. It may be that 
 the robes of the earlier period were not pre- 
 served." 
 
 " What shall we do? 'E'll soon be calling, sir," 
 urged Watson. 
 
 An insignificant incident spurred Kent's mem- 
 ory. " I think Mrs. Aveling might help us here," 
 he said. " I once heard her speak of some ancient 
 garments in connection with this very Templar 
 robe." 
 
 Watson was hastily sent to her, and presently 
 returned, bearing a voluminous garment, worn 
 and ancient and yet surviving the ravages of time, 
 as everything pertaining to the Templar seemed 
 miraculously to do. White and trembling, he ad- 
 vanced within the room where Aveling waited. 
 Kent and Dr. Warren followed. 
 
 Aveling rose from his chair and critically sur- 
 veyed the garment offered him. His brow dark- 
 ened with a visible effort to think, as if exact rec- 
 ollection just escaped him. After an interval, he 
 suffered Watson to put it about him, and stepped 
 forth, the ancient lord in garb and speech. He 
 graciously inclined his head to Kent and Dr. 
 Warren. 
 
 " Come to the castle-hall," he said. 
 
 Following some unknown turn of thought, Avel- 
 ing led the way to the wing which was inhabited. 
 Kent's fears rose. The trail was leading in the
 
 THE RISEN SPIRIT 251 
 
 wrong direction, but he could only helplessly fol- 
 low. 
 
 They were all gathered in the hall when Aveling 
 approached. His progress was arrested for a 
 moment as he passed the picture that hung op- 
 posite the stairway. He seemed to compare the 
 painted costume with the one he wore, as if not 
 settled surely in possession of himself. An evi- 
 dent satisfaction cleared his brow. He made a 
 gesture of assent and passed on. 
 
 " Room, lord and ladies ; room for two noble 
 guests who ask the courtesy of Roxmoor." He 
 turned, with a most stately grace, to the two men 
 who followed him : " I pray you, gentle friends, 
 to bide some little time within our castle walls. 
 We cannot promise much of stirring feats of 
 arms; but in our poor towers you may find re- 
 pose and peace, hemmed safe from broil and 
 feud." 
 
 His glance, travelling about the room, sud- 
 denly darkened in a frown. 
 
 " How now, what do we hear? This is not meet 
 for Roxmoor's guests. The great hall stands dull 
 and empty, while we huddle. Come, gentle lords 
 and ladies ; come. It were a fitter place we seek." 
 
 He turned away, but his eye was caught by 
 Mrs. Aveling, standing near the doorway. He 
 looked her up and down, with some evident strug- 
 gle of thought, and then advanced to her side:
 
 252 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 " How art thou, my gentle Mariola? Holy men 
 at orisons might envy that pure brow that be- 
 speaks an easy soul." 
 
 Mrs. Aveling looked down with a softened face, 
 her young beauty ennobled by the maternal ele- 
 ments in her love. She bore his deference, but 
 did not speak, uncertain of what impulse might 
 move him next. For it was evident, from the som- 
 bre glow upon his features the intimations of 
 gathering force, power, initiative, that the 
 Usurper was slowly forging a personality, of 
 whose scope no one knew. 
 
 The silent group looked on at the perilous thing 
 unfolding before their eyes. Every word and ac- 
 tion was of vital importance to build up the 
 slowly growing memory of the past. Could she 
 endure the double strain upon her? Aveling was 
 not yet in full possession of this new self. Her 
 words might break the spell. 
 
 He was seen to lift an anxious scrutiny to her 
 face. " And yet, methinks, a melancholy lurks 
 there, too." 
 
 She smiled bravely down at the lifted face, her 
 gray eyes in a tender glow. The silent listeners 
 waited, breathless, for her to speak. 
 
 " It is the sunshine of thy love that gives me 
 peace, dear my lord," she murmured. " And the 
 shadow of thy absence that makes me sad."
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE LORD A VEILING 
 
 AVELING bent over and pressed his lips to her 
 hand and, offering his arm with stately grace, 
 passed out. The others could only helplessly fol- 
 low, with the certain presage of Aveling's desti- 
 nation, the old hallway, closed and desolate for 
 many centuries. It was the banqueting-hall in 
 that early period to which his mind reverted. The 
 darkness and the empty grate roused him to a 
 fury. He stamped upon the floor, issuing im- 
 perious commands, while the fire grew upon the 
 hearth and light sprang out of the darkness. 
 
 With a sudden descent into the shades, Avel- 
 ing exactly reproduced what must have been the 
 daily habit of that troubled ancestor of his. 
 Every detail of that experience was touched upon ; 
 even the tender devotion to the much-loved Mari- 
 ola. Nothing was lacking in the workings of his 
 brain, reconstructing the memories that shifted 
 through it. 
 
 But time sped with a horrible swiftness in that 
 disordered consciousness. Scarcely was an order 
 given until another followed hot upon its heels. 
 253
 
 54. THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 Days, weeks, months fled away in the space of a 
 few short hours. Aveling's energy was boundless, 
 the convolutions of his excited brain a marvel. 
 He despatched mythical couriers to a dead king. 
 He ordered scouts to search for fancied enemies, 
 and made allusion to events of which no one 
 knew the meaning. 
 
 Late in the night some one took Mrs. Aveling 
 away and compelled her to rest. Kent and Dr. 
 Warren watched alone. Toward morning there 
 came a change. Aveling sank into the wretched- 
 ness of some deep grief. It seemed that years 
 passed and his sorrow did not lessen. To Kent's 
 amazement, the man began to age before him. His 
 shoulders bent, his eye dimmed. He crouched 
 lower in his chair, drooped in an abject misery 
 which engulfed the whole man. 
 
 When a new day dawned bright and clear, 
 Aveling did not heed. The swiftly revolving 
 drama in his brain shut out the slow passage of 
 ordinary time. The food they placed before him 
 was scarcely touched. He began to murmur in- 
 distinctly of some vague distress, making feeble 
 movements, as if to rid himself of some hamper- 
 ing bond. His feebleness increased at a speed 
 which threatened collapse. The murmured words 
 became a meaningless gibber. Mrs. Aveling was 
 hastily summoned, in the hope that her presence 
 might stay his sinking powers. He did not stir
 
 THE LORD AVELING 255 
 
 when she entered the room, nor by any sign show 
 that she was near. He raised his head when urged 
 to movement, vacantly stared at her for a mo- 
 ment, and then turned indifferently away. 
 
 She winced and then moved forward, as if to 
 lay her hand upon his arm, but Kent drew her 
 aside, for Aveling's uneasiness was growing more 
 acute. He plucked irritably at the robe he wore 
 and cast appealing looks at Kent, murmuring in- 
 coherently the burden of his distress. Kent ap- 
 proached closer. The confused murmur resolved 
 into intelligible sounds: 
 
 " The soldier the Holy Temple must 
 
 wear " The words died, but he continued to 
 
 tear at his sleeve with a steady, imploring gaze 
 that shaped his meaning. 
 
 Kent summoned Watson, who brought again 
 the discarded robe of the Templar. Aveling*s 
 countenance lightened. When the exchange had 
 been made, he sank into his chair with a sigh, 
 and over his worn and ageing features crept the 
 relief of a scourged and penitent soul. 
 
 Mrs. Aveling had not moved while these changes 
 were taking place. But something of awe stole 
 into her face as she looked down upon the 
 quiescent figure in the chair, sinking further into 
 the abysmal past. Terror seized her as she 
 watched the man she loved fade into nothingness 
 before the difficult approach of the guilty and
 
 256 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 stricken lord of ancient Roxmoor. She started 
 violently as Kent spoke: 
 
 ** Do not be alarmed. The experience he is 
 repeating has passed the period of Lady Aveling's 
 death. He will not know you again, for this is 
 the beginning of the last change." 
 
 The fascinated wonder of her look melted in a 
 tender yearning as her resolution gathered once 
 more to face that dreadful meeting of two per- 
 sons in a single human soul!
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 UNVEILED 
 
 THE long day drew wearily to a close. The 
 sky was heavily overcast. Kent opened a shut- 
 ter to let in the last rays of daylight. Just at 
 the horizon the clouds broke. Long, red rays 
 reached out and touched Aveling's face. Some- 
 thing in him stirred. A flicker of light crossed 
 his stony features, stained with the blood-red light. 
 An ancient clock, which some one put in motion, 
 struck off five wheezy strokes. Aveling thrilled 
 at the sound and, after some feeble, groping 
 movements, sank into his chair again, as if the 
 sudden effort overtaxed him. 
 
 He did not move until the clock struck again. 
 Then he showed acute signs of distress and seemed 
 pressed to greater exertion. But he did not leave 
 his chair, sinking into its hold, his eyes wide open 
 in a calm scrutiny of the room. 
 
 It was evident that the striking of an hour 
 was closely associated with something he wanted 
 to do. As the hours moved on into the night, he 
 made distressed attempts to leave his seat. But 
 it was not until the stroke of nine that his pur- 
 357
 
 258 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 pose woke, as if that hour were set to some past 
 deed. Life and energy flowed into every limb. 
 A dull joy, like a muffled light, sprang up in his 
 face. He rose from his seat, threw up his hand 
 in a triumphing gesture, and, with the proud bear- 
 ing of the dead Lord Aveling, left the hall. He 
 evidently had some definite goal in mind, for his 
 actions were full of meaning and dramatic fire. 
 
 He passed with some haste through the corri- 
 dors, pausing at an ancient doorway, worm-eaten 
 and overspread with dust and cobwebs. It was 
 his intention, apparently, to pass through, but 
 it steadily resisted his efforts to open it. He 
 stood back and thundered forth imperious com- 
 mands. But no one could release the stiffened 
 bolts or move the ponderous hinges. The ancient 
 door, which, it began to be told in muttered whis- 
 pers, had never been entered within the knowledge 
 of man, still held firm. Every hand and voice 
 lent its aid, for Aveling's desire to enter grew 
 more urgent. His words took a threatening note. 
 
 A careful examination showed that the stout 
 oaken fibre of the wood had been weakened by time 
 and the iron bolts and hinges corroded by damp- 
 ness. Working with heavy tools, inch by inch 
 the door and frame were parted. The rusted 
 hinges, eaten through, gave way. The door, with 
 a sudden crash, fell in, disclosing a narrow rock- 
 lined passage. Aveling sprang forward and van-
 
 UNVEILED 259 
 
 ished in the opening, followed by Kent and Dr. 
 Warren. 
 
 A series of intricate, winding passages fol- 
 lowed, mouldering and crumbled with age. The 
 dampness trickled down in streams. The ceilings 
 grew lower, the rock more roughly hewn. Here 
 and there they passed the mouth of a yawning 
 cavern, where another passage branched off from 
 the path they followed. 
 
 After a time the character of the place began 
 to change. Sculptured effigies of saints and 
 crosses and sacred emblems appeared, which might 
 denote the approach to a shrine. At one end 
 Aveling stopped, with genuflections and a hastily 
 muttered prayer, and then pushed on deeper into 
 the recesses of the old foundations. Sometimes 
 the narrow passage widened, or was broken by 
 a niche, where a rude altar held the crucifix and 
 a candlestick or lamp. Aveling, in his onward 
 progress, came to a sudden halt. The passage 
 apparently ended in a blank wall. 
 
 The group which accompanied him fell back. 
 Aveling ran his eye over the rough stones. There 
 was nothing to indicate that they were any dif- 
 ferent in structure from the wall lining the pas- 
 sage on either side. He moved forward and went 
 through a series of movements, as one might re- 
 call a long-forgotten piece of music to the finger- 
 tips, touching the stones at various places. There
 
 260 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 was a roar like thunder as the wall began to 
 move. It was suddenly withdrawn, and Aveling 
 stepped into the cavern that yawned before 
 them. 
 
 They all pressed forward into the recess 
 whither Aveling had so fearlessly advanced. He 
 stood within a spacious chamber hewn in the solid 
 rock. The flaring lights they carried fell upon 
 arches overhead which sprang from carved pil- 
 lars, supporting a beautifully decorated ceiling. 
 The side walls were covered with frescoes. Di- 
 rectly in front stood an altar, richly ornamented. 
 Upon it lay the emblems of a worship paid by a 
 devout and anxious heart. To one side was placed 
 an altar tomb, upon which lay the recumbent fig- 
 ure of a woman. Her features, severely classic, 
 wore an expression of great sweetness and repose. 
 
 As Kent looked, the solitude and sanctity of 
 the place the sacred emblems, the carved slumber 
 of the dead seemed to re-create the long-past 
 vigils which had vainly striven to still a tortured 
 conscience. The frescoes were faded, the marble 
 discolored, the lights extinct, the fittings of the 
 altar falling in tattered ruin, and prayers had 
 long ceased to echo here. But through the 
 dilapidation that anguished cry of the soul still 
 rang. 
 
 In Aveling that invisible despair was struggling 
 back to life again. He knelt at the altar, he
 
 UNVEILED 261 
 
 prayed long and earnestly beside the marble im- 
 age, but no lightening of his burden eased his 
 soul. The melancholy of his bearing deepened. 
 He sank at last in a broken heap beside the carven 
 image. 
 
 Kent started hastily forward, but Dr. Warren 
 stopped him, " I think he is better left undis- 
 turbed." 
 
 " He is dying ! " urged Kent. 
 
 " No not yet. But the long-delayed time is 
 here. That terrible wrench of conscience has 
 reached its crisis. See he already stirs." 
 
 As Kent watched, with the agony of one bound 
 hand and foot, he saw a returning flood of life 
 alter the stricken frame beside the tomb. It 
 seemed, insensibly, to become animate with a pur- 
 pose that placed vigor within the drooped frame 
 and re-lit the dying fire in his eye. With a glad 
 shout, he rose and laid a gentle touch upon the 
 marble cheek of her whose rest the centuries had 
 not troubled. With that touch there flamed into 
 life the resolution that grew by leaps and bounds 
 within the man. Some vital act of self-surrender 
 broke the barrier that lay between them. He cast 
 a devouring look at her, offering again a worthy 
 heart as he trampled underfoot the deed which 
 had kept his soul in separation. He knelt and 
 kissed the hem of her robe; he offered a tri- 
 umphant prayer before the altar, and, springing
 
 262 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 to his feet, plunged into the darkness that gaped 
 at the chapel door. 
 
 Kent could scarcely follow the swift pace that 
 carried Aveling away from the secret chapel, un- 
 til they reached the corridor outside the ancient 
 banqueting-hall, where Aveling paused. He stood 
 for a moment irresolute. The silence was deadly. 
 The clock struck ten ! Only two hours remained, 
 but hope was running high. 
 
 He stirred again, but clearly in confusion. He 
 moved to the tapestried parlor, repeating frag- 
 ments of bygone scenes. He knelt in supplication 
 to the niched portrait and uttered piteous pray- 
 ers. He turned again to the castle-hall and paced 
 monotonously up and down, his hands clasped 
 behind his back. His steady march carried him 
 away to the row of curtainless windows, where 
 he halted and stared up at the moon riding at 
 peace in the deep-blue sky. The stately figure in 
 the flowing robes was drawn sharply in black and 
 silver. The touch of white upon his hair shone 
 dimly, like a star. 
 
 The snarl of an angry wild beast suddenly 
 ripped the air. Aveling had moved with terrible 
 swiftness and torn open a recess concealed behind 
 the panelling. It was empty! 
 
 Some sharp disappointment was upon him as he 
 searched the farthest cranny of the recess. There 
 were evidences of an effort to think that knotted
 
 UNVEILED 263 
 
 his frame and brought streams of moisture upon 
 his brow. In a few moments he again moved with 
 that incredible speed to another recess hid in the 
 very jaws of the fire upon the hearth, only to fall 
 back with a fresh cry of rage. Three, four, five 
 times he opened sliding panels and hidden draw- 
 ers, and each recess was empty. Each time he 
 returned with redoubled fury to his task. The 
 uneasy criminal had been ill-pleased with every 
 hiding-place, and Aveling found his crooked trail 
 with difficulty. His actions began to wear a ma- 
 lignant cunning, like one upon a stealthy hunt. 
 He had crept away to prowl among the shadows 
 that shrouded the southern end of the long apart- 
 ment. His movements grew swifter, his step more 
 crafty, his searching arms more sinuous and ser- 
 pent-like. His eyes gleamed like balls of fire, 
 and suddenly he seemed to melt from sight. 
 
 Mrs. Aveling sprang up with a sharp cry. She 
 looked piteously from one white face to the 
 other. 
 
 " Can no one find him ? Is he gone forever ? " 
 With one accord they turned to Kent, and for 
 a moment he shouldered alone the burden of that 
 night's tragedy. With short words he directed 
 a search in Aveling's various haunts, but no trace 
 of him was found. A clock nearby struck eleven. 
 Kent ground his teeth. He sent some one to the 
 little chapel underground. He himself kept guard
 
 264 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 near the usual approach to the picture gallery. 
 Minute by minute passed until a half-hour had 
 gone. Kent moved restlessly away, and then re- 
 turned. Some accursed timepiece, too cunningly 
 contrived, struck the quarter before twelve. One 
 seeker returned, and then another. 
 
 "What shall we do, Kent?" came the panic- 
 stricken cry as they gathered round him, shrink- 
 ing with terror. The few minutes that yet re- 
 mained slipped silently into eternity. 
 
 Kent was staring helplessly ahead when a cry, 
 like the piercing scream of a condor, rent the air. 
 With an ashen face, he leaped forward in the 
 direction of the gallery. In a few moments they 
 all had gathered within the door. The candles 
 they carried wrapped them in a pillar of light. 
 Otherwise the room was dark, except for the red 
 mist before the pictured Templar. In its faint 
 radiance Aveling's form was just discernible. 
 
 The little group crept silently nearer. Avel- 
 ing was painted on the shadows by the cloud of 
 light that swept with them over the floor, a 
 stately, majestic figure, challenging his shadow 
 upon the wall for the secret which had gripped 
 his life. The vacillating Aveling was gone, and 
 in his place stood a stern, accusing man facing 
 his lower self, its stains and defacements, with 
 an inexorable demand for the act of self- 
 redemption.
 
 UNVEILED 265 
 
 Within the fastness of his soul the change was 
 made. It poured out upon his face and figure, 
 like the rising of full noon-tide upon a darkened 
 day. He started, straightened, every feature 
 blazing beneath the transfiguration of the man. 
 Those who watched saw a great illumination en- 
 velop the painted likeness on the wall whither 
 Aveling's glance led theirs, and, as they looked, 
 it assumed, to their tranced vision, the reality of 
 flesh and movement. A great gladness surged out 
 upon the dark face and swallowed its guilt and 
 despair. It seemed a very man that leaned gra- 
 ciously toward the challenging figure on the floor, 
 answering the demand made in every imperious 
 line of him. Only a moment Aveling stood poised 
 in that mysterious communion. Then he leaped 
 forward to the niche beneath the picture. The 
 door swung open, the whole aperture turned out- 
 ward on a hinge. He thrust his hand into the 
 vacant place, and then sprang backward. A bunch 
 of papers gleamed white in the hand he held above 
 his head. 
 
 But something was happening. Aveling stag- 
 gered back against the wall, fighting horribly for 
 breath. Kent was looking dumbly forward. His 
 eyes were glassy and he seemed dazed. Mrs. Avel- 
 ing clutched his arm. 
 
 " Quick quick ! " she urged. " You said you'd 
 bring him back ! "
 
 266 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 With a mighty effort he moved, and, putting his 
 lips to Aveling's ear, called in a hoarse voice: 
 " Ned ! Aveling come back, man ! The fight 
 is won ! " 
 
 At the first sound of Kent's words the tempest 
 in Aveling was stilled. He straightened and took 
 a step forward, and, as they looked, the lines and 
 mien of the Templar began to sink. And Aveling, 
 aged and scarred by his struggle, strangely al- 
 tered by his ancient garments, advanced from 
 the shadows held in the glow of a great deliver- 
 ance. 
 
 A clock somewhere struck twelve. Kent stum- 
 bled forward and fell upon the floor, a senseless 
 heap. 
 
 When Kent woke, the sunshine streamed in a 
 broad track across his chamber floor. He lay 
 for a little while in the oblivion of a first waken- 
 ing. The lees of a vivid dream dulled his senses. 
 Everything was quiet, but the sense of stirring 
 events was upon him and strange recollections be- 
 gan to haunt his mind. He raised himself upon 
 his elbow to listen. The slight movement caused 
 some one in a corner to stir, and he saw Watson 
 advancing toward him. Kent watched him keenly 
 for a confirmation of the memories crowding thick 
 upon him. But Watson's face had learned well 
 its lesson of sphinx-like calm. Kent checked the
 
 UNVEILED 267 
 
 questions which rose to his lips, and briefly gave 
 assent to Watson's query whether he wished to 
 rise. 
 
 As he emerged from his room a little later, a 
 shadow seemed to tremble vaguely upon the wall 
 and flit before him. The house seemed strangely 
 still. There was no one in the Red Parlor where 
 he waited, wondering, until a servant appeared to 
 announce a meal, the name of which Kent failed 
 to catch. His head was dull and heavy, and his 
 limbs shook as he rose and passed out to the ta- 
 ble. Something in the repressed silence of the 
 servants annoyed him. 
 
 " Just what is this meal I am eating, pray ? " he 
 asked, by way of compelling those trained ma- 
 chines to talk. 
 
 " Oh, this is breakfast, sir," returned the re- 
 spectful man behind his chair. 
 
 " And what day does it happen to be ? " he 
 enquired, after a moment's thought. 
 
 "This is Thursday, sir." 
 
 " And the day of the month? " Kent pursued. 
 "What might that be?" 
 
 " It is the second day of November," the man 
 replied, in a lower voice. 
 
 Kent nodded. His head was growing clearer. 
 It was plain that he had slept some thirty-four 
 hours or more, for, as he glanced at a clock close
 
 268 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 by, he saw that the hands stood near to ten 
 o'clock. Now just what was going on? Had 
 some disaster befallen Ned? 
 
 " Have Mr. and Mrs. Aveling gone out ? " he 
 asked sharply. 
 
 A nameless shadow flitted across the face be- 
 fore him. " I believe there is a letter for you 
 from Mr. Aveling, sir." The man coughed behind 
 his hand and dropped his eyes. 
 
 Kent relapsed into silence and worked manfully 
 at his breakfast. He remembered now that every- 
 thing was all right before that blackness fell upon 
 him, and his fears died down. 
 
 When he returned to the Red Parlor, Watson 
 approached with a letter and a package of papers 
 upon a tray, and, silently retiring, closed every 
 door that led into the room. Kent watched the 
 last door swing to, and then took up his letter. 
 It bore no superscription. He tore it open. The 
 envelope contained a single sheet, dated November 
 first, eight o'clock, Melton Abbey. Kent spread 
 it out and began to read : 
 
 " MY DEAR KENT : I went in to-night to look at 
 you, still sound asleep, and nearly twenty-four 
 hours have passed since you fell to the floor in 
 that deadly faint. I suppose you don't remem- 
 ber, but, after they roused you, you soon fell 
 asleep. The doctors assure me it is a natural rest
 
 UNVEILED 269 
 
 that will be your salvation, and that you must be 
 left until nature lets you waken. I always did 
 hate self-forgetting people, and they tell me you 
 scarcely shut an eye for three days and nights. 
 But I mean to have it out with you, and don't you 
 forget it. 
 
 " But, old man, I can't stand this cursed 
 house a minute longer. Something weighs me 
 down like everlasting doom, and they tell me I 
 must go. And so I am leaving to-night. Warren 
 and Watson, faithful watch-dogs as they are, will 
 guard you day and night and bring you to me 
 when you are fit to travel. I brought a dozen or 
 two of doctors along, so don't worry about me. 
 And I sha'n't miss Watson, either; for I can't 
 see over the army of valets and otherwise grouped 
 about my noble person. This seems to be a 
 densely populated world. 
 
 " You will find, by the examination of the ac- 
 companying papers, that Mariola inherits the 
 Roxmoor estate. Bateson is to put her in pos- 
 session whenever you leave, for you are to go to 
 Melton Abbey as soon as you waken. Lady Mel- 
 ton is waiting eagerly to receive you. And Betty 
 I think is waiting, too." 
 
 Then followed a brief description of the pa- 
 pers found within the niche, the missing will, a 
 piece of old parchment, yellow and stained, but
 
 270 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 still legible, and a history of the crime carefully 
 written by the conscience-stricken old lord, driven 
 to make every expiation, except the only one that 
 could avail. Mariola was the true heir accord- 
 ing to these documents. Kent's only task was to 
 see the Barotti family duly installed, and join the 
 Avelings in Venice, whither they had gone to 
 wait. 
 
 The letter fell from Kent's hand, striking the 
 envelope which had enclosed it, carrying both to 
 the floor. He stooped to pick them up, mechan- 
 ically holding up the envelope to the light. Some- 
 thing more lay in it. He drew out a thin slip 
 of paper, written hurriedly, as if under the pres- 
 sure of another impulse. 
 
 " I often wonder, Kent, if I am I ; or if I am 
 only the soul of that old man incarnate, with the 
 spell of his evil deeds upon me. Or, if through 
 the dim ages, he has tugged ineffectually at all 
 my predecessors. Or, perhaps, that kinship of 
 the soul, symbolized by likeness of body, enabled 
 his lost spirit to make the message clear. Ah! 
 these are dangerous reveries! Who can penetrate 
 these dim regions and tell us of them? Better 
 far better, to take the way, a step at a time, as 
 we are bidden. But I long, with a thirst I hope 
 
 you'll never share, for a Lethe draught " 
 
 The pen trailed out a few more indistinguishable
 
 UNVEILED 271 
 
 words, but Kent divined their meaning. For, 
 when he looked up, the face of the Templar smiled 
 down at him in the radiance of a new-born peace, 
 and then dissolved into the shadows. 
 
 Kent got up and doggedly explored the corner 
 where the vision had appeared. A dim old por- 
 trait lay concealed in a dark angle. He lit a 
 match and held it up. The same face of an earlier 
 date showed a benign countenance untroubled by 
 the secret of his latter years. Again the portrait 
 started forward. Kent turned and faced a blind- 
 ing flood of sunshine playing through a window 
 seldom opened. He looked no longer with con- 
 tempt at his shaking hands, musing upon the 
 alchemic spell which shadowed every corner of 
 the manor, causing even the simplest of events 
 to grow heavy with the mists of dread, and start- 
 ing up the reminiscences of an age stained with 
 a crime that made the dead past give up its dead. 
 
 Poor, thrice-haunted Aveling! 
 
 Kent went back to his chair and sat for a 
 while, lost in profound thought. He roused him- 
 self at last and caught up the yellowed bundle 
 of papers which accompanied the letter, a mass 
 of material which carried the history of the Avel- 
 ing family from the point where Kent had 
 dropped it, down to modern times. For the next 
 two hours he pored over the checkered story, fas-
 
 THE MAN WHO REAPS 
 
 cinating as a fairy tale. How the family had 
 declined, flaring up at intervals under the impulse 
 of fresh blood injected into its ancient veins; 
 or responding to the touch of passion, which, at 
 stern and bloody times, evoked slumbering powers. 
 How the title had lapsed during a period of fa- 
 natical religious fervor, never to be revived; and 
 then the slow creeping on of that sinister fatality 
 which piled up gold and treasure and drew a circle 
 of blood about it. 
 
 He read over the quiet misery which escaped 
 in the last few lines of Aveling's letter. His face 
 grew dark and bitter, dwelling upon the pictured 
 Templar, as he came and went beneath the ray 
 of light. So many centuries to right one wrong; 
 so many shadowed lines ; and now the heavy price 
 of Aveling's buoyant joy in living. 
 
 He ran once more over the words that some- 
 how lingered " Better to take the way, a step 
 at a time, as we are bidden," and the soldierly, 
 forward trend of the brave, fine words caused his 
 thoughts to run out into a mood of grave wonder, 
 with a fresh conviction of the necessity for the 
 soul to receive and bear the discipline of human 
 living, whether just or unjust. His memory re- 
 viewed with lightning clearness the night that 
 Aveling, like a man going to be shot, pointed out 
 his grim fate, and the quiet surrender to the obli-
 
 UNVEILED 273 
 
 gations of his blood which illumined the pale, 
 familiar face drew Kent's bitterness away. For 
 he knew that, through that terrible testing, this 
 careless, laughing spirit had accomplished the 
 human destiny and risen to the full stature of a 
 spiritual man. 
 
 THE END
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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