The Legacy of Cain

"The report arrived this morning. I was only informed that the result, in one case, had entirely defeated the inquiries. In the other case, Elizabeth had helped her agent by referring him to a Birth, advertised in the customary columns of the Times newspaper. Even here, there was a fatal obstacle. The name of the place in which Mr. Gracedieu's daughter had been born was not added, as usual. I still tried to be useful. Had my friend known the Minister's wife? My friend had never even seen the Minister's wife. And, as if by a fatality, her portrait was no longer in existence. I could only mention that Helena was like her mother. But Elizabeth seemed to attach very little importance to my evidence, if I may call it by so grand a name. 'People have such strange ideas about likenesses,' she said, 'and arrive at such contradictory conclusions. One can only trust one's own eyes in a matter of that kind.'

"My friend next asked me about our domestic establishment. We had only a cook and a housemaid. If they were old servants who had known the girls as children, they might be made of some use. Our luck was as steadily against us as ever. They had both been engaged when Mr. Gracedieu assumed his new pastoral duties, after having resided with his wife at her native place.

"I asked Elizabeth what she proposed to do next.

"She deferred her answer, until I had first told her whether the visit of the doctor might be expected on that day. I could reply to this in the negative. Elizabeth, thereupon, made a startling request; she begged me to introduce her to Mr. Gracedieu.

"I said: 'Surely, you have forgotten the sad state of his mind?' No; she knew perfectly well that he was imbecile. 'I want to try,' she explained, 'if I can rouse him for a few minutes.'

"'By Massage?' I inquired.

"She burst out laughing. 'Massage, my dear, doesn't act in that way. It is an elaborate process, pursued patiently for weeks together. But my hands have more than one accomplishment at their finger-ends. Oh, make your mind easy! I shall do no harm, if I do no good. Take me, Selina, to the Minister.'

"We went to his room. Don't blame me for giving way; I am too fond of Elizabeth to be able to disappoint her.

"It was a sad sight when we went in. He was quite happy, playing like a child, at cup-and-ball. The attendant retired at my request. I introduced Mrs. Tenbruggen. He smiled and shook hands with her. He said: 'Are you a Christian or a Pagan? You are very pretty. How many times can you catch the ball in the cup?' The effort to talk to her ended there. He went on with his game, and seemed to forget that there was anybody in the room. It made my heart ache to remember what he was—and to see him now.

"Elizabeth whispered: 'Leave me alone with him.'

"I don't know why I did such a rude thing—I hesitated.

"Elizabeth asked me if I had no confidence in her. I was ashamed of myself; I left them together.

"A long half-hour passed. Feeling a little uneasy, I went upstairs again and looked into the room. He was leaning back in his chair; his plaything was on the floor, and he was looking vacantly at the light that came in through the window. I found Mrs. Tenbruggen at the other end of the room, in the act of ringing the bell. Nothing in the least out of the ordinary way seemed to have happened. When the attendant had answered the bell, we left the room together. Mr. Gracedieu took no notice of us.

"'Well,' I said, 'how has it ended?'

"Quite calmly my noble Elizabeth answered: 'In total failure.'

"'What did you say to him after you sent me away?'

"'I tried, in every possible way, to get him to tell me which of his two daughters was the oldest.'

"'Did he refuse to answer?'

"'He was only too ready to answer. First, he said Helena was the oldest—then he corrected himself, and declared that Eunice was the oldest—then he said they were twins—then he went back to Helena and Eunice. Now one was the oldest, and now the other. He rang the changes on those two names, I can't tell you how often, and seemed to think it a better game than cup-and-ball.'

"'What is to be done?'

"'Nothing is to be done, Selina.'

"'What!' I cried, 'you give it up?'

"My heroic friend answered: 'I know when I am beaten, my dear—I give it up.' She looked at her watch; it was time to operate on the muscles of one of her patients. Away she went, on her glorious mission of Massage, without a murmur of regret. What strength of mind! But, oh, dear, what a disappointment for poor little me! On one thing I am determined. If I find myself getting puzzled or frightened, I shall instantly write to you."

With that expression of confidence in me, Selina's narrative came to an end. I wish I could have believed, as she did, that the object of her admiration had been telling her the truth.

A few days later, Mrs. Tenbruggen honored me with a visit at my house in the neighborhood of London. Thanks to this circumstance, I am able to add a postscript which will complete the revelations in Miss Jillgall's letter.