on the day following her recognition at ravenhall lorelie sat at luncheon with the earl and the viscount. the servants had retired, leaving them free to indulge in private conversation.
"to my fair daughter-in-law," said the earl, touching his glass with his lips and bowing to lorelie, who returned the greeting but coldly. the space of twenty-four hours had not reconciled her any the more to his presence.
"do you know that old lanfranc is dead?" remarked ivar, addressing his father.
"no. where did you learn that?"
"saw it just now in the obituary column of the times."
"may one ask who lanfranc is?" said lorelie.
"sir george lanfranc," replied the earl, "is——"
"was," corrected ivar.
"our family solicitor," continued the earl, with a frown—he hated to be corrected—"and one of the privileged four admitted to the knowledge of our secret funeral vault."
"the other three being——?" queried lorelie.
"ivar and i, as a matter of course: and the rector of ormsby."
"i think i could name a fifth," murmured lorelie to herself.
for, on the day prior to her coming to ravenhall she had chanced to meet with godfrey, and, moved by a[pg 278] sudden impulse, he had told her how he had followed ivar to the crypt and what had happened there, not omitting lord walden's utterance that it was done on lorelie's account. the story was a complete revelation to her, and, while thanking godfrey for his communication, she determined to discover the meaning of the strange affair with which ivar had associated her name. a favourable opportunity seemed now to present itself, and she resolved to essay a bold stroke.
"we shall have to choose some one to supply lanfranc's place," said the earl, turning to his son.
"permit me to offer myself," suggested lorelie.
lord ormsby raised his eyebrows in manifest surprise.
"ladies have never been admitted to that vault," he replied. "in that respect it resembles the baptist's chapel in the genoese cathedral."
"but that chapel is open to ladies on one day in the year," replied lorelie. "therefore, your parallel will not hold."
"are you really serious in making this suggestion?" asked the earl.
"perfectly."
"what is your reason?"
lorelie shrugged her shoulders.
"you don't require reason from a woman," she replied. "it would be hard for me to give my reason. curiosity, mainly: the desire of seeing what no other woman has seen, or ever will see."
"the initiated have to swear an oath to keep the secret," said ivar.
"that gives quite a romantic charm to the adventure," lorelie replied.
the earl sat silent for a moment as if weighing the matter, and then cast at his son a look which seemed to[pg 279] convey a silent suggestion, a suggestion that appeared to meet with tacit acceptance from the other.
"there is really no reason why we should not admit you to the vault," he remarked. "better one of the family than an outsider. and you are one of us now," he added with a sigh, as though the fact were much to be regretted. "you shall be one of the privileged four, if you desire it. when would you like to pay your first visit?"
"why not now?" she asked impulsively, rising from her seat as she spoke.
"humph!" replied the earl, thoughtfully. "suppose we say to-night. the late hour will enable us the better to escape the prying eyes of the servants. you consent? good! then we will meet in this dining-hall a little before twelve to-night. but—not a whisper of this to any one. let the matter be kept secret."
lorelie rose and sought the retirement of her own room, not without wonder that the earl should accept her strange proposal almost as soon as he heard it. then, as she recalled the curious look he had cast at ivar, together with his injunction to observe secrecy respecting the intended visit, there swept over her a sudden wave of cold feeling induced by a thought so dreadful that she could scarcely bring herself to entertain it. but the idea would persist in stamping itself in letters of fire upon her mind.
"i know he hates me!" she gasped. "i saw that in his eyes when he first heard my name. i know he hates me, but—my god! to such an extent as that! is he afraid that the daughter will seek to avenge her father? and will he get ivar to consent?"
while she was occupied with these terrible misgivings her husband came slouching in. he seated himself on a chair and regarded her for a moment with a strange expression that set her trembling.
[pg 280]
"so you've quite made up your mind to visit the vault?"
she assented with a nod, not daring to trust herself to speak. her heart was beating like a steam-hammer; faint murmurs were ringing in her ears; she seemed to see ivar as through a mist.
"bah! you lack the courage. you will be crying off from the venture before the night comes."
his sneer roused her spirit, and she spoke in a low tone, striving to control the tremors of her voice.
"i will not cry off: no," she added, emphasizing her words, as if to fix his attention, "not if it should end in my death."
ivar started and glanced suspiciously at her.
suddenly lorelie rose, and walking to an oak-press produced a small piece of faded black velvet fringed on one edge with silver lace. sitting down with needle and thread she proceeded with deft fingers to manipulate this velvet into a sort of ornamental bow, without cutting the fabric or in any way diminishing its original size.
her husband moodily watched her, wondering why she should form a dress-ornament from such faded stuff and why she should select this particular juncture for making it.
"what's that thing you are making?" he asked in a sullen voice.
"merely a bow," she answered, extending the half-finished article towards him. "of what do you suppose this velvet once formed part?"
"it might have been cut from a pall by the look of it."
"i commend your discernment. you are not far wrong."
"perhaps you will enlighten me," he asked, scowling, as he noticed her air of satisfaction at his perplexity.
[pg 281]
"it is not the first time you have seen this velvet and its parent fabric," said lorelie.
approaching a mirror she held the bow against the neck-band of her dress.
"i shall wear this bow to-night. true, it does not look very pretty, yet it may serve as a talisman, and——"
but on looking up she found that ivar was gone. the velvet dropped to the carpet, and she clasped her hands.
"they mean it," she murmured. "i can read it in ivar's guilty manner—half-resolve, half-fear: letting 'i dare not' wait upon 'i would.' my god! but i will go through with it. i will put their base courage to the test."
her first fears had vanished, leaving her hard and firm as steel. the spirit that loves danger for its own sake, the spirit derived from her corsican ancestors, began to reawake in the breast of their nineteenth-century descendant.
at six in the evening lorelie, who had spent the afternoon in arranging her plan of action, stole quietly to her bedroom, having told the butler she would not come down to dinner.
"i must sleep," she murmured, "that my faculties may be fresh and unimpaired for to-night's work."
her first care was to lock and bolt the door that opened upon the corridor, and next that communicating with ivar's bedroom. she paid considerable attention to these doors, as well as to the fastenings of the windows. a traveller putting up for the night at some lonely and suspicious hostelry could not have shown more caution. thus secured from intrusion she laid herself down, dressed as she was, upon the bed. but fully two hours elapsed ere she succeeded in falling asleep.
when she awoke she found herself shivering with cold and in total darkness. for a few moments she lay[pg 282] dreamily conscious that some ordeal awaited her, but unable at first to recall what it was. then memory revived. the visit to the vault! yes! that was it; and the thought made her pulses quicken.
she rose, procured a light, and found that it was close upon midnight.
"so late! they will begin to think that i am not coming."
fastening the velvet bow to the neck-band of her dress she unlocked the chamber-door and walked out into the corridor. a deep silence reigned throughout the mansion, a silence that to her imagination had something awesome in it. it seemed like the prelude to a tragedy. with a firm step she descended the staircase and made her way to the dining-hall, where a murmur of voices told her that the earl and ivar were awaiting her.
their conversation ceased upon her entrance, and both looked up, ivar seeming somewhat perturbed in spirit, the earl smiling and evidently pleased that she had come.
"we were just discussing the probability of your appearing," said he. "ivar was confident that you would cry off from the business. and, certainly, a coffin-vault is not a very cheerful place."
"it is not the dead one has to fear," replied lorelie, "but the living."
"your wife has more courage than you gave her credit for, ivar," remarked the earl approvingly. "if you will carry the lamp i will give her my arm."
"thank you," replied lorelie, declining the proffered arm, "but i can walk without aid."
they set forward from the dining-hall, the earl going first, ivar a model of ill-grace walking beside lorelie. he did not speak, but glanced curiously at her from time to time.
[pg 283]
the expedition was so strange, so unlike anything she had ever known before, that lorelie began to wonder whether the whole scene was not a dream. it was difficult to believe that the earl, so smiling and courteous, could really entertain the black design of which she suspected him.
at the end of the picture gallery they reached that little lumber-room which godfrey rothwell had so long hesitated to enter on that memorable night when tracking ivar to the vault. making his way to the hearth the earl stood in the wide space beneath the mantel, and lifting his hand within the chimney he touched what lorelie judged was a hidden spring, for his action was immediately followed by a faint creaking of pulleys and ropes, and then the perpendicular slab forming one side of the fireplace began slowly to descend, revealing behind it an empty space.
"the secret way to our crypt," remarked the earl.
he passed through the entrance. ivar, who had not spoken one word since leaving the dining-hall, followed. lorelie went last.
she looked about her. the light carried by ivar faintly illumined the place. she was standing in a narrow passage, paved, walled, and roofed, with stone. its length could not be ascertained by the eye, for it stretched away indefinitely in the gloom.
the earl began to manipulate the machinery, and the stone slab slowly ascended till its lower end rested upon the hearth again. lorelie, attentive to his action, grasped with quick eye the principle of the mechanism. such knowledge would be useful in the event of her having to return alone.
all communication with the outer world was now cut off. she was completely at the mercy of the two men, and though this was only what she had foreseen, yet none[pg 284] the less the sudden realization of the fact caused a certain chilling of her high courage.
the order of their march was now changed: they walked abreast: lorelie in the centre, the earl on her right, ivar, still silent, on her left.
though apparently staring about with interest and curiosity lorelie in reality never took her eyes from the earl. it might have been simply the effect of the flickering light, but in her opinion his face had an exultant and sinister expression. she became more than ever on her guard, and any sudden movement on his part caused her right hand to seek her dress pocket in which a loaded revolver lay concealed.
a steep descent of stone steps now yawned in front of them. with her left hand lorelie drew her dainty skirts around her, and glanced in disgust at the black slimy ooze and the patches of fungous growth.
"these stairs look slippery," she murmured.
"a former lord of ormsby broke his neck down these very steps," remarked the earl.
"i have no wish to imitate his feat," said lorelie, drawing back a little. "do you go first. if i slip i shall be but a light weight, whereas if you should fall upon me," she added, with a shrug of her shoulders, "there is no knowing what might happen."
the earl gave her a suspicious look as if detecting a hidden meaning in her words: then, compliant with her wish, he led the way down the steps. lorelie came last, feeling more at ease in being at the rear.
the stairs terminated in the flagged flooring of another long passage, at the end of which was the crypt.
as lorelie entered she could not repress a shiver, the atmosphere of the place striking her senses with a damp chilling effect.
ivar, by aid of the light he had carried, proceeded to[pg 285] kindle the lamp pendent from the roof, and every object in the chamber became clearly visible.
at a glance lorelie took in the whole scene—the octagonal crypt, the black velvet curtains draping the alcoves, the massive oak table, and the four antique carved chairs: everything just as godfrey had described it.
as her eye fell upon the silver lace edging the lower end of a curtain adjacent to the door, her face expressed satisfaction, a satisfaction that became instantly lost in a very different feeling: for there, on the floor by one of the alcoves, was a chest of cypress wood, an object she readily identified as the reliquary that had figured so conspicuously in godfrey's narration. the lid stood erect and she noticed that the contents consisted of a whitish powder.
"quicklime!" she murmured with a cold thrill.
becoming doubly vigilant she sat down in one of the chairs and prepared herself for emergencies.
on the table stood a decanter partly filled with wine, and beside it some glasses. observant of everything lorelie saw that though the smooth surface of the table was overlaid with a coating of dust, the display of glass exhibited not a trace of it; evidently the wine was of recent introduction—perhaps placed there specially for her use.
"what! you have wine here? pour me out a glass, ivar."
speaking in the tone of a woman who suspects nothing she reclined in her seat in a graceful attitude, extending a glass towards ivar, and watching him keenly from beneath the lashes of her half-closed eyes. her husband, his face as white as a ghost's, filled her glass, and setting down the decanter, breathed hard. the earl looked on with seeming indifference.
[pg 286]
with steady motion lorelie lifted the glass, taking a longer time over the action than was necessary, as if even the foretaste of drinking were a pleasure not to be curtailed. ivar was watching her with an expression the like of which she had never before seen on his face.
her lips touched the edge of the glass, and there rested a moment: and then, without having tasted the wine, she raised the glass and held it between her half-closed eyes and the lamp above, an action that displayed to the full the beauty of her rounded arm and bust.
"how bright and clear it is!" she murmured, in a softly modulated voice. "by the way," she added, suddenly opening her eyes wide, "what wine do you call this?"
"a choice vintage. malvazia, one of the rarest of the madeiras," replied the earl.
lorelie lowered the glass quickly, in real or feigned disappointment.
"o-oh!" she murmured, pouting. "a pity—that! i cannot bear malvazia: it always gives me the headache. i must refrain from drinking.—and yet," she added, inhaling the fragrance, "the bouquet is tempting."
she toyed a moment or two with the glass, as if about to drink, but finally set it down upon the table, glancing at the two men with a silvery laugh. her radiant air contrasted strangely with the sombre spirit which seemed to enwrap both of them.
"this is a very pretty chamber," she said, poising her head upon her hands, and affecting to survey the crypt with interest. "nothing very terrible about it, after all. i might have spared myself the letter to dr. rothwell."
"what is that?" said the earl, with a quick nervous start.
"peccavi! i have done very wrong, i admit," said[pg 287] lorelie, with a sweet smile. "i have ventured to disobey your command that i should tell nobody of this, our midnight adventure: for, as one never knows what may happen when visiting the haunts of the dead, i could not refrain from communicating with dr. rothwell on the matter. he is aware of this visit of ours to the crypt. commend my wisdom, my lord, in thus taking precautions to secure our safe return."
never did human countenance change so quickly as did that of the earl at these words. he glanced at ivar. dismay was reflected in the eyes of each.
"here is the note i received from him this afternoon," continued lorelie imperturbably, drawing forth the communication and tossing it carelessly upon the table. "you observe his words. 'dear lady walden, i give you my promise that if i do not meet you at the porch of ravenhall to-morrow morning at eight, i will come and seek you in the vault."
"he would have some trouble in finding it," sneered the earl.
"not at all. dr. rothwell knows his way to this crypt as well as you or ivar. he made a secret visit here on april the tenth of this year, the night on which ivar returned home from the continent."
"godfrey was at ravenhall that night," muttered the viscount uneasily.
"he was here—in this vault, i repeat, at three in the morning. and the scene he witnessed was past belief. it would do you good, ivar, to listen to his story. it would really interest you; you, perhaps, more than any other person."
it is no exaggeration to say that at these words ivar became green with fear. he turned his head from the earl in order to conceal his agitation. the secret which he had believed to be locked within his own breast was[pg 288] known to others—was being hinted at in the presence of his father, the very person from whom he most desired to conceal it. how much did lorelie know? what would she be saying next? words, perhaps, that would bring him to ruin.
"ivar, i see, is persuaded of the truth of my statement. you are more sceptical, my lord, but you shall be convinced."
she detached the velvet bow from her neckband and flung it lightly beside godfrey's note.
"cut the threads of that; unfold the velvet, and you will find that its shape corresponds exactly with the little rent at the foot of that curtain. it was dr. rothwell who cut off this piece of velvet, bringing it away with him to prove—if proof should ever be required—that he has stood in the secret crypt of the ravengars. do you still doubt me, my lord, or do you require further proof?"
on the contrary he was so certain of the truth of her words that he did not attempt to verify them, but stood, fingering the velvet bow with a dark expression of countenance.
looking upon lorelie as an enemy to be silenced at all costs he had brought her to this vault intending that she should never leave it. ivar was a reluctant accomplice, his reluctance arising not from any conscientious scruples, but from the dangerous consequences attending the commission of such a deed. the disappearance of the new viscountess on the second day of her coming to ravenhall would be an event that could not fail to bring suspicion and inquiry in its train.
lorelie had divined their plot, and having taken steps for its frustration, had fearlessly accompanied them to the destined scene of her death. and here she was, a slender, fragile woman, in a lonely situation, with no one to hear[pg 289] her cry for help, in the presence of two men desirous of her death, and yet, thanks to her forethought, as safe as if attended by an armed escort.
her calm air, her radiant beauty, added fuel to the earl's secret rage. if he had followed his first impulse he would have seized her in his arms and twining his fingers around her throat have silenced her forever. but prudence compelled him to refrain from violence. the thought of having to face on the morrow the stern inquiring eyes of godfrey acted as a potent check.
fortunately for himself he had not proceeded to the length of openly avowing his awful purpose: he was therefore free to deny it, if she had any suspicion, as he was strongly disposed to believe that she had. besides, what mattered her suspicion? she had no real proof to offer the world. opposed to her single testimony was the joint testimony of himself and her husband.
he began to breathe freely again. the matter might yet end well as regarded his own safety—the only consideration that troubled him.
lorelie, knowing the cause of his mortification, sat at ease in her chair, secretly enjoying her triumph.
at last, feigning to be angry, she exclaimed:—
"how silent you are! are you going to let me depart from this vault without enlightening me as to its mysteries? come, ivar, play the part of cicerone. draw aside the curtain from each alcove, and give me the names and biographies of the coffined dead. i am in an historic genealogic mood."
ivar, not knowing whether to obey, glanced irresolutely at his father.
"gratify the curious fool," the earl muttered moodily.
with an ill grace at having to obey the wife whom he hated, and troubled by a secret foreboding that his guilty secret was about to transpire, ivar approached the alcove[pg 290] nearest the door, and, lifting the velvet drapery, disclosed a deep recess, the walls of which were pierced with niches containing coffins.
"this," he remarked sullenly, touching one, "is the coffin of lancelot ravengar, the first earl of ormsby."
and so he proceeded from one alcove to another, giving the names of the dead peers, his amiability not improved by the caustic remarks made by lorelie.
"a dull catalogue of nonentities, unknown to fame," she said, when ivar had finished his recital. "but i observed that you entirely passed over the fourth alcove. why? raise the curtain and let me see what it contains."
with manifest reluctance the viscount lifted the drapery, revealing in the alcove a coffin on trestles.
"this is the coffin of urien ravengar, my grandfather."
"in saying that, you of course mean simply that that is the name on the plate."
"that coffin," broke in the earl in a harsh voice, "contains the body of my father, urien ravengar."
"i do not think so," replied lorelie quietly.
in a blaze of wrath the earl turned suddenly upon ivar.
"fool! what have you been telling this woman?"
"i? nothing!" replied the viscount, shrinking back. and seeing disbelief expressed on his father's face, he added, "ask her: if she speak truth she will tell you that nothing relating to this coffin has passed my lips."
"then how—how?" began the earl: then, breaking off abruptly, he turned to lorelie with the question: "tell me, then, what this coffin does contain?"
"that is what i wish to learn," she replied coolly. "it is my chief reason for visiting this vault."
"you will remain in ignorance."
[pg 291]
"i shall depart enlightened. was it not from that coffin, ivar," she said, turning to him, "that you took the golden vase you gave me some time ago?"
she was drawing a bow at a venture, but the arrow found its mark. the sweat glistened on ivar's forehead. he betrayed all the confusion of a guilty person. his father eyed him suspiciously.
"a golden vase!" he exclaimed with a bitter smile. "ivar, i must look into that coffin!"
thus speaking he made his way to the alcove where the viscount was standing. moved by curiosity lorelie also drew near.
"take the screwdriver, and remove the lid," said lord ormsby in a stern voice.
sullenly and mutely ivar proceeded to do his father's bidding.
no one spoke, and nothing disturbed the stillness save the crisp revolution of the screwdriver. with folded arms and compressed lips the earl stood looking on, an expression on his face that boded ill for his son should he find his suspicion verified.
the last screw was loosed, and as ivar raised the lid lorelie's eyes instantly closed, dazzled by a thousand rays of many-coloured light, shooting up in all directions from the coffin, like bright spirits rejoicing to be free.
putting up her hand to shield her sight from the radiance she endeavoured to obtain a clear idea of what was before her.
the coffin, of more than ordinary size, was a veritable treasure-chest, filled to the lid with plate and precious stones, the latter forming by far the larger part of the contents.
forgetful of her aversion to the earl, forgetful of her recent peril, forgetful of everything but the sight before[pg 292] her, lorelie stood with parted lips and dilated eyes, spellbound by the glittering array of wealth. her knowledge of art taught her that the antiquity and workmanship of the ornaments far exceeded the intrinsic value of the materials composing them. there was a crucifix, formed from one entire piece of amber, the plunder of some saxon monastery: an ivory drinking-horn, engraved with runic letters, that spoke of the old norseland: a golden lamp, inscribed with a verse from the koran, a relic of moorish rule in spain: rare coins, that had found their way from the byzantine treasury. every part of medi?val europe had apparently contributed some memorial to this store.
but, as previously stated, the quantity of plate was small in comparison with the gems. it was these that riveted lorelie's attention. never in any collection of crown-jewels had she seen the equal of these stones for variety and size, for brilliance and beauty. the richest caliph of the east might have envied the possessor of such a store. it suggested a dream of the "arabian nights."
"ah! you may well gaze!" cried the earl to lorelie, in a fierce exultant tone. "find me the man in britain who owns such wealth as this! take every object out of the coffin," he continued, addressing ivar. "lay each and all upon the table. let lady walden handle them that she may realize the wealthy match she has made."
lorelie quite understood the earl's motive in making this display. since he could not get rid of her, his only other policy was to conciliate her. she smiled disdainfully to herself. it was not to her interest, however, to quarrel with him at present: she must simulate friendly relations till the purpose for which she had come to ravenhall should be accomplished.
[pg 293]
"yes, let me see everything," she said in seeming eagerness.
drawing the table to the entrance of the alcove ivar proceeded to empty the coffin of its contents. during this operation lorelie's surprise rose almost to fever-heat at sight of some of the objects drawn forth.
when the coffin had been emptied, the earl produced a pocketbook containing a list of the treasures.
"'article 1,'" he read out. "'ancient norse funereal urn, of pure gold, set with opals.'"
the viscount handed a vase to his father.
"safe, i see," said the earl. "i have been unjust to you in thought, ivar," he continued, apologetically. "when your wife spoke of a golden vase given her by you, my thoughts associated themselves with this. i acknowledge my error."
ivar cast an anxious look at lorelie, dreading lest her words should lead to the betrayal of his secret. but lorelie said nothing, though in a state of extreme amazement and perplexity: for the jewelled vessel now in the earl's hands seemed to be the very vase given to her by ivar some weeks previously—the vase that had played so important a part in her hypnotic experiment with beatrice.
on coming to ravenhall lorelie had left it behind her at the cedars: how came it to be here in the vault of the ravengars? was it a replica? if so, it was certainly a marvellous imitation of the original, since she could detect no points of difference.
"observe the lustre of the opals," said the earl, his eyes gleaming with pleasure; and lorelie perceived that his love of study, great though it might be, had not quenched in him the passion of avarice. "an interesting and precious relic of norse antiquity, this!" continued the earl, tapping the urn affectionately. "it[pg 294] contains the ashes of draco the golden, the founder of our family. from the grey dust within this urn all we ravengars have sprung."
the vase at the cedars also held the remains of the same viking, if the story told by beatrice in her hypnotic trance was to be relied upon. the supposition that the ashes of orm had been divided between two urns seemed absurd: and yet how otherwise was this mystery to be explained, unless indeed ivar, unknown to her, had paid a visit to the cedars, and having obtained the vase, had restored it to the place whence he had originally taken it. unlikely as this last hypothesis might be, it seemed the only one capable of meeting the requirements of the case.
the earl, having carefully deposited the urn in one corner of the coffin, referred again to his catalogue.
"'article 2. norse altar-ring of pure silver, inscribed with runic characters.' yes, this is it," he continued, receiving the article from ivar's hand. "the ring of odin, that figures in our armorial shield. many a legend of blood clings to this relic. what a history it could unfold, were it but endowed with speech!"
the golden vase had puzzled lorelie, but this silver relic puzzled her still more. she did not doubt that the object before her was the identical ring, the non-production of which at the trial of eric marville, was one of the points that had told against him. she knew the story of its theft from mrs. breakspear, and, like idris, knew not whither it had vanished. now, after all these years, it thus reappeared! by what circuitous route, through how many bloodstained hands, had it passed before regaining its ancient abode?
mechanically she took the ring from the earl's hand. if this were indeed the very relic, there should be a black mark upon the inner perimeter of the ring. upon [pg 295]examining it, however, she could discover no stain at all: the metal band was bright and unsullied.
was this ring, like the vase, a replica: or was there truth in the ancient legend that the bloodstain would vanish when some one should meet with a violent end as an atonement for the slaying of the norse herald? certain it was that a death had occurred in connection with the finding of the treasure.
with a bewildered air she handed back the ring to the earl, who placed it within the coffin beside the vase, and turned again to his list.
"'article 3. a sapphire drinking-cup. weight'—ah! look at this!" he cried, breaking off from his reading in an ecstasy of delight. "look at it! handle it! admire it! can the dresden gallery produce its like?"
a low and prolonged cry of admiration flowed from lorelie's lips. the object handed to her by the earl was a miniature goblet, the tiny bowl, stem, and stand being delicately sculptured from one entire sapphire. it was a work of art, as well as a splendid gem. with the delight of a child over a new toy lorelie raised the gleaming brilliant aloft, placing it between her eye and the light in order to mark its lovely azure transparency. its beauty was such as almost to reconcile her to her lot with ivar. to think if she chose, she might in time to come be the joint-possessor of such a gem!
"a million of money would not buy that cup," cried the earl, watching her look of admiration. "it belonged originally to the great caliph, abderahman the second, and was taken by draco and his vikings at the sacking of the moorish palace at seville. it vanished from human ken, and has lain hidden in a night of ten centuries. the lapidaries of the present age scoff at its description in history, believing the gem to be the creation of arabian fancy: but here it is, existing to-day, to confute[pg 296] their shallow scepticism. were this gem known to the world it would take the title of 'the queen of sapphires.'"
charmed beyond the power of words to describe, lorelie turned the cup slowly round, flashing the light from a hundred facets: and then—and then—she made a discovery. a minute air-bubble was faintly visible in the crystalline azure!
she glanced at the earl. his triumphant face showed that he had not the least inkling of the truth. she looked at ivar, who happened at this moment to be standing behind his father. the sudden change in lorelie's countenance assured the viscount of the fact of her discovery: and now, he, the coward who had been willing to take her life, was appealing to her by gesture and expression to keep her knowledge a secret from his father.
for that which gave the earl such pride was in truth nothing but an artificial gem, a marvellous imitation of the real thing, but still merely a piece of coloured glass!
lorelie became more perplexed than ever at this discovery. how came ivar to know that the gem was false, and why was he so anxious to conceal the truth from his father?
then in a moment everything became clear.
always pressed for money, and precluded by his father's parsimony from obtaining it, ivar had formed the plan of appropriating a certain portion of the plate and gems contained in the coffin. to secure himself from detection he had artfully replaced the originals by clever facsimiles, fabricated on the continent by goldsmiths and glass-workers of the class who would ask no inconvenient questions provided that they were well paid for their work. to obtain the necessary counterfeits ivar[pg 297] must have conveyed the originals to the continent, a very hazardous thing to do, seeing that if the earl had paid a visit of inspection to the treasure during his son's absence, discovery would have been inevitable. the counterfeits being completed, ivar had brought them concealed in the reliquary to ravenhall, and had transferred them to the coffin, his remark while doing so—the remark overheard by godfrey—to wit, "i hope lorelie will be satisfied," being doubtless drawn from him by the fact that lorelie was often making monetary demands upon him, a fact which she herself would be the first to admit, though she little dreamed of the means taken by him to supply her costly tastes. she could not avoid the feeling that, to some extent, she was responsible for ivar's peculations: and, therefore, compliant with his wish, she kept silent, and permitted the earl to remain in his ignorance.
the contents of the coffin were a mixture of the genuine and the spurious. the altar-ring was the genuine article: it would not have paid for the trouble of counterfeiting. the jewelled vase was spurious: on glancing again at this last, lorelie wondered how she could have taken the metal for gold: it now seemed to her eyes merely like common bronze. the "sapphire cup" was but worthless glass: she almost sighed at the thought that the lovely original should have been exchanged for current coin of the realm. the selling of such a gem was an act little short of sacrilege.
"well may you linger over it!" cried the earl, thinking that her long retention of the cup was the result of admiration. "such a gem as that is too lovely for earth, too precious even for an empress to drink from."
"but not for a ravengar, surely?" said lorelie.
and taking up the decanter she filled the azure cup with wine, and held it out to him.
[pg 298]
"drink, my lord," she said smiling, and recalling his own words, "''tis of a choice vintage, one of the rarest of the madeiras.'"
but from that cup the earl recoiled as from the summons of death himself.
"why, you start as though 'twere poison," laughed lorelie. "will you not drink, ivar?" she added, turning to the viscount and offering him the cup. "what! and do you, too, shrink from a few drops of innocent malvazia? refuse the honour of drinking from the great abderahman's cup? the caliph's own, veritable, genuine, historic cup! you understand?"
he did—fully. stepping forward, she said in a fierce thrilling whisper:—
"how much is your life worth, if i let your father know that this cup is but a piece of coloured glass?"
it was not in lorelie's nature to take pleasure in another's pain; yet on the present occasion the despair and fear expressed in ivar's eyes was a luxury to her, almost compensating for his attempt on her life.
"it was for your sake i did it," he muttered with white lips.
contemptuously turning away from him, she said:—
"well, then, if neither will drink, i, too, shall refuse. i will imitate those excellent examples, my husband and father. let us be classical and pour out a libation. here's to the great archfiend himself, the author and giver of the treasure, for heaven, i am convinced, has had little to do with it."
she inverted the cup: but, either by accident or design, the greater part of the liquid fell in splashes upon her dress, very few drops reaching the floor.
* * * * * *
on reaching her bedroom lorelie's first care was to lock the door: her next, to cut from her dress every [pg 299]portion stained with wine. these fragments of cloth she placed in a glass phial, steeping them in water. then the spirit that had sustained her through the long and terrible ordeal gave way, and reeling forward she fell heavily across the bed.
