N Venice he met his brother, Lord Surbiton, who happened
to have come over from Corfu in his yacht. The two young men
spent a delightful fortnight together. In the morning they rode
on the Lido, or glided up and down the green canals in their
long black gondola; in the afternoon they usually entertained
visitors on the yacht; and in the evening they dined at Florian's,
and smoked innumerable cigarettes on the Piazza. Yet somehow
Lord Arthur was not happy. Every day he studied the obituary
column in the Times, expecting to see a notice of Lady
Clementina's death, but every day he was disappointed. He began
to be afraid that some accident had happened to her, and often
regretted that he had prevented her taking the aconitine when
she had been so anxious to try its effect. Sybil's letters, too,
though full of love, and trust, and tenderness, were often very
sad in their tone, and sometimes he used to think that he was
parted from her for ever.
After a fortnight Lord Surbiton
got bored with Venice, and determined to run down the coast to
Ravenna, as he heard that there was some capital cock-shooting
in the Pinetum. Lord Arthur at first refused absolutely to come,
but Surbiton, of whom he was extremely fond, finally persuaded
him that if he stayed at Danieli's by himself he would be moped
to death, and on the morning of the 15th they started, with a
strong nor'-east wind blowing, and a rather choppy sea. The sport
was excellent, and the free, open- air life brought the colour
back to Lord Arthur's cheek, but about the 22nd he became anxious
about Lady Clementina, and, in spite of Surbiton's remonstrances,
came back to Venice by train.
As he stepped out of his gondola
on to the hotel steps, the proprietor came forward to meet him
with a sheaf of telegrams. Lord Arthur snatched them out of his
hand, and tore them open. Everything had been successful. Lady
Clementina had died quite suddenly on the night of the 17th!
His first thought was for Sybil,
and he sent her off a telegram announcing his immediate return
to London. He then ordered his valet to pack his things for the
night mail, sent his gondoliers about five times their proper
fare, and ran up to his sitting-room with a light step and a
buoyant heart. There he found three letters waiting for him.
One was from Sybil herself, full of sympathy and condolence.
The others were from his mother, and from Lady Clementina's solicitor.
It seemed that the old lady had dined with the Duchess that very
night, had delighted every one by her wit and esprit,
but had gone home somewhat early, complaining of heartburn. In
the morning she was found dead in her bed, having apparently
suffered no pain. Sir Mathew Reid had been sent for at once,
but, of course, there was nothing to be done, and she was to
be buried on the 22nd at Beauchamp Chalcote. A few days before
she died she had made her will, and left Lord Arthur her little
house in Curzon Street, and all her furniture, personal effects,
and pictures, with the exception of her collection of miniatures,
which was to go to her sister, Lady Margaret Rufford, and her
amethyst necklace, which Sybil Merton was to have. The property
was not of much value; but Mr. Mansfield, the solicitor, was
extremely anxious for Lord Arthur to return at once, if possible,
as there were a great many bills to be paid, and Lady Clementina
had never kept any regular accounts.
Lord Arthur was very much touched
by Lady Clementina's kind remembrance of him, and felt that Mr.
Podgers had a great deal to answer for. His love of Sybil, however,
dominated every other emotion, and the consciousness that he
had done his duty gave him peace and comfort. When he arrived
at Charing Cross, he felt perfectly happy.
The Mertons received him very
kindly. Sybil made him promise that he would never again allow
anything to come between them, and the marriage was fixed for
the 7th June. Life seemed to him once more bright and beautiful,
and all his old gladness came back to him again.
One day, however, as he was going
over the house in Curzon Street, in company with Lady Clementina's
solicitor and Sybil herself, burning packages of faded letters,
and turning out drawers of odd rubbish, the young girl suddenly
gave a little cry of delight.
'What have you found, Sybil?'
said Lord Arthur, looking up from his work, and smiling.
'This lovely little silver bonbonniere,
Arthur. Isn't it quaint and Dutch? Do give it to me! I know amethysts
won't become me till I am over eighty.'
It was the box that had held
the aconitine.
Lord Arthur started, and a faint
blush came into his cheek. He had almost entirely forgotten what
he had done, and it seemed to him a curious coincidence that
Sybil, for whose sake he had gone through all that terrible anxiety,
should have been the first to remind him of it.
'Of course you can have it, Sybil.
I gave it to poor Lady Clem myself.'
'Oh! thank you, Arthur; and may
I have the bonbon too? I had no notion that Lady Clementina
liked sweets. I thought she was far too intellectual.'
Lord Arthur grew deadly pale,
and a horrible idea crossed his mind.
'Bonbon, Sybil? What do
you mean?' he said in a slow, hoarse voice.
'There is one in it, that is
all. It looks quite old and dusty, and I have not the slightest
intention of eating it. What is the matter, Arthur? How white
you look!'
Lord Arthur rushed across the
room, and seized the box. Inside it was the amber-coloured capsule,
with its poison-bubble. Lady Clementina had died a natural death
after all!
The shock of the discovery was
almost too much for him. He flung the capsule into the fire,
and sank on the sofa with a cry of despair.
[Chapter Five]
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Oscar Wilde Collection