The Legacy of Cain Read online

her to enter Philip's room. And I know that love had conquered once more, when

  you were next seen sitting by Philip's bedside. Tell me--have you any misgivings

  now? Is there fear in your heart of the return of that tempting spirit in you,

  in the time to come?"

  "Not while Philip lives!"

  There, where her love was--there her safety was. And she knew it! She suddenly

  left me. I asked where she was going.

  "To tell Philip," was the reply.

  She was waiting for me at the door, when I followed her to the house.

  "Is it done?" I said.

  "It is done," she answered.

  "What did he say?"

  "He said: 'My darling, if I could be fonder of you than ever, I should be fonder

  of you now.' "

  I have been blamed for being too ready to confide to Philip the precious trust

  of Eunice's happiness. If that reply does not justify me, where is justification

  to be found?

  POSTSCRIPT.

  LATER in the day, Mrs. Tenbruggen arrived to offer her congratulations. She

  asked for a few minutes with Philip alone. As a cat elaborates her preparations

  for killing a mouse, so the human cat elaborated her preparations for killing

  Philip's happiness, he remained uninjured by her teeth and her claws.

  "Somebody," she said, "has told you of it already?" And Philip answered: "Yes;

  my wife."

  For some months longer, Mr. Gracedieu lingered. One morning, he said to Eunice:

  "I want to teach you to knit. Sit by me, and see me do it." His hands fell

  softly on his lap; his head sank little by little on her shoulder. She could

  just hear him whisper: "How pleasant it is to sleep!" Never was Death's dreadful

  work more gently done

  Our married pair live now on the paternal estate in Ireland; and Miss Jillgall

  reigns queen of domestic affairs. I am still strong enough to pass my autumn

  holidays in that pleasant house.

  At times, my memory reverts to Helena Gracedieu, and to what I discovered when I

  had seen her diary.

  How little I knew of that terrible creature when I first met with her, and

  fancied that she had inherited her mother's character! It was weak indeed to

  compare the mean vices of Mrs. Gracedieu with the diabolical depravity of her

  daughter. Here the doctrine of hereditary transmission of moral qualities must

  own that it has overlooked the fertility (for growth of good and for growth of

  evil equally) which is inherent in human nature. There are virtues that exalt

  us, and vices that degrade us, whose mysterious origin is, not in our parents,

  but in ourselves. When I think of Helena, I ask myself, where is the trace which

  reveals that the first murder in the world was the product of inherited crime?

  The criminal left the prison, on the expiration of her sentence, so secretly

  that it was impossible to trace her. Some months later, Miss Jillgall received

  an illustrated newspaper published in the United States. She showed me one of

  the portraits in it.

  "Do you recognize the illustrious original?" she asked, with indignant emphasis

  on the last two words. I recognized Helena. "Now read her new title," Miss

  Jillgall continued.

  I read: "The Reverend Miss Gracedieu."

  The biographical notice followed. Here is an extract: "This eminent lady, the

  victim of a shocking miscarriage of justice in England, is now the distinguished

  leader of a new community in the United States. We hail in her the great

  intellect which asserts the superiority of woman over man. In the first French

  Revolution, the attempt made by men to found a rational religion met with only

  temporary success. It was reserved for the mightier spirit of woman to lay the

  foundations more firmly, and to dedicate one of the noblest edifices in this

  city to the Worship of Pure Reason. Readers who wish for further information

  will do well to provide themselves with the Reverend Miss Gracedieu's

  Orations--the tenth edition of which is advertised in our columns."

  "I once asked you," Miss Jillgall reminded me, "what Helena would do when she

  came out of prison, and you said she would do very well. Oh, Mr. Governor,

  Solomon was nothing to You!"

  [The End]