THE ARRIVAL AT HOME.
On the same evening Mr. Monroe, Ellen, and Katharine were assembled in
the drawing-room at Markham Place.
The lamp burnt bright, and there were books open upon the table; but
none of the little party had any inclination to read:—some event of
importance was evidently expected.
"He will assuredly return this evening," observed Mr. Monroe, after a
long pause in the conversation. "The last letter he wrote to us was
positive in naming the day when he calculated upon arriving in England."
"But as he said that he should be compelled to come back to his native
land in one of the government steamers of Castelcicala," said Ellen, "it
is impossible to conjecture what delay adverse weather may have caused."
"True," exclaimed Mr. Monroe; and he walked to the window, whence he
looked forth into the bright clear night.
It is a strange fact that whenever people are expecting the arrival of
some one near or dear to them, they invariably go to the windows, where
they watch with a sort of nervous agitation—as if by so doing they could
hasten the coming which they anticipate.
The two young ladies drew close to each other on the sofa, and exchanged
a few words in whispers.
"You seem low-spirited, dearest Kate," said Ellen; "and yet our
benefactor is about to return to us. I feel convinced that you are more
annoyed than you choose to confess, on account of the, non-appearance of
the handsome stranger."
"I should be telling you an untruth, Ellen," answered Kate, blushing
deeply, "were I to declare that I do not sometimes think of him whom you
alluded to. But have I not another cause of vexation? do you imagine
that the recent interview which I had with that odious Mr. Banks——"
"Yes, dear Kate: all that he told you was well calculated to render you
anxious and unsettled in mind," interrupted Ellen. "But it was necessary
to await the return of him who can best counsel you; and the time now
approaches when you may communicate to Richard all that has passed."
Katherine was about to reply, when Mr. Monroe, who was still watching at
the window, suddenly exclaimed, "A carriage—at last!"
The two young ladies hurried to the casement, and beheld the lamps of
the vehicle rapidly approaching, while the sound of its wheels also
reached their ears.
Then they both hastened from the room, followed by Mr. Monroe, to
receive Markham the moment he should alight.
Whittingham and Marian joined them; and the whole party was stationed on
the steps of the front door when the carriage drove up.
In another moment Richard was amongst them; and there were such
congratulations—such shaking of hands—and such proofs of joy as were
seldom known or seen even on occasions of similar happiness.
As for the old butler, he was literally mad with the excitement of his
feelings. He hugged his young master with a warmth that could not
possibly have been exceeded had they stood in the relation of father and
son, and the fervour of which considerably deranged the position of our
hero's epaulettes and aiguillettes—for he was in his uniform, as the
reader will remember. Then, when Whittingham had thus far testified his
joy at his master's return, he seized upon Marian and compelled her to
perform three or four rapid pirouettes with him in the hall—to the
infinite peril of that good woman's equilibrium. She disengaged herself
from him with considerable difficulty; and the old man, quite overcome
by his feelings and performances, sate down in one of the hall-chairs,
and began to whimper like a child—exclaiming as well as he could, "Don't
mind me—don't mind me! I can't help it! It's the unawoidable commotions
here!" and he slapped his breast. "Master Richard's come back to the
home of his successors; and he's a great man too—in spite of all that
them willains Marlborough and Axminster once did to him!"
"Compose yourself, my excellent old friend," said the young Prince,
pressing Whittingham's hand: "I am indeed come back—and to remain, too,
for a long—long time."
The footman who attended upon the Grand-Duke's carriage now approached
our hero, and with head uncovered, said in a tone of extreme deference,
"Is it the pleasure of your Highness that the chariot should remain, or
return to Richmond?"
"I wish you to stay here until the morning," answered Richard; "as I
shall visit his Serene Highness to-morrow."
The footman bowed, and retreating to the hall-steps, cried aloud to the
coachman, "The Prince commands us to remain."
"Hey! what's that?" ejaculated Whittingham, who, together with the
others present, had caught those swelling titles. "I heerd, Master
Richard, that you was a Markiss; but——"
"It has pleased the gracious sovereign to whose service I have the
honour to belong, to invest me with the rank which has surprised you,"
answered Richard, laughing at his old dependant's bewilderment: "at the
same time I can assure you that you will please me best by addressing me
ever as you have been accustomed to do from my childhood."
The butler seemed to reflect profoundly for a few moments, with his
eyes fixed on the marble floor then, suddenly raising his head, he
exclaimed, "No, Master Richard—it can't be done! It would be to treat
you as if you was still a boy. There's such a thing in the world as
epaulette—etiquette, I mean; and I know myself better than to lose
sight on it. Besides, Master Richard—it isn't every one as is butler
to a Prince; and I'm proud of the office. So now I've called you
_Master Richard_ for the last time. Marian, bustle about the
supper—and see that the servants with the carriage is well taken care
of. You can show 'em round to the stables; while I light his Highness
to the drawing-room."
Having issued these commands in a tone of pompous importance which the
old man had not adopted for some years past, he seized a candle and led
the way in a solemn and dignified manner up stairs.
"Poor Whittingham scarcely knows whether he stands on his head or his
feet," whispered Richard, laughing, to Ellen and Katharine, as he placed
himself between them, and gave them each an arm. "Let us, however,
humour the good old man, and ascend with due ceremony to the
drawing-room."
The reader will not require us to detail all the conversation which
ensued. Markham had so much to tell, and his hearers so much to learn,
that the time slipped away with lightning speed. Our hero not only
related at length all that had occurred to him in Italy, but also
entered upon explanations which he had never broached before relative to
his attachment to Isabella. He made Whittingham sit down and listen to
all he had to say; and he concluded by acquainting those present with
his intended marriage.
"But," he hastened to add, "this event will make no difference in regard
to the dear friends by whom I am surrounded. You, Mr. Monroe and Ellen,
must continue to dwell with me; and you, Katherine, must look upon this
house as your home. It is large enough for us all—even for those
servants whom it will now be necessary to add to our establishment, and
who will increase the department over which you, my faithful
friend,"—addressing himself to Whittingham,—"preside so ably."
"I shall know how to distrain 'em all in order, my lord," said the
butler, with an air of considerable importance.
Ellen's countenance had suddenly become thoughtful, when she heard that
Richard was so shortly to be married.
Leaning towards him, as she sate by his side, she murmured in a hasty
whisper, "Tell Whittingham to leave the room: I wish to speak to you and
my father immediately."
Markham requested the old man to see that the servants of the Grand-Duke
were well cared for; and Whittingham accordingly withdrew.
Richard then glanced inquiringly towards Ellen, who rose and whispered
to Katherine, "Leave us, my sweet friend, for a few moments: I wish to
speak to Richard and my father on a subject which nearly concerns
myself."
Kate cheerfully complied with this request, and retired.
"What does this mean, Ellen?" inquired Richard with some degree of
anxiety. "God grant that no cause of unhappiness may interrupt the joy
of my return!"
"No—reassure yourself on that head," said Ellen. "My dear benefactor—and
you, beloved father—listen to me for a few moments. You, Richard, are
about to bring home a bride whom you love—whom you respect—and who must
be respected,—a lady endowed with every quality that can render her
worthy of you,—pure, chaste, and stainless as snow. Richard, she must
not be placed in the companionship of one who occupies an equivocal
situation in society—like myself!"
"Ellen, my Isabella is of too generous—too charitable a mind——" began
Richard, deeply affected by these words, which recalled so many
unpleasant reminiscences with respect to Monroe's daughter.
"Nay—hear me out," continued Ellen, with a sweet smile of gratitude for
the sentiment which Markham had half expressed: "I shall not keep you in
suspense for many moments. You wish me to be the companion of your
Isabella, Richard?—I will be so—and not altogether unworthily either in
respect to her or to myself. And now I am about to communicate to you
both a secret which I should have treasured up until the proper time to
elucidate it had arrived—were it not for the approaching event which has
compelled me to break silence. But in imparting this secret, I must
confide in your goodness—your forbearance—not to ask me more than I dare
reveal. Richard—father—I am married!"
"Married!" repeated our hero, joyfully.
"Come to my arms, Ellen!" cried Mr. Monroe: "let me embrace you
fondly—for now indeed are you my own daughter for whom I need not
blush!"
And he pressed her to his heart with the warmest enthusiasm of paternal
affection.
"Yes," continued Ellen, after a short pause, "I am married—married, too,
to the father of my child;—and that is all that I dare reveal to you at
present! I implore you—I beseech you both to ask me no questions; for I
could not respond truly to them, and be consistent with a solemn promise
of temporary secrecy which I have pledged to my husband! The motives of
that mystery are not dishonourable, and do not rest with me. In two or
three years there will be no necessity to keep silent. And now tell me,
dear father—tell me, Richard—have you sufficient confidence in me, to
believe what I have unfolded you, without knowing more?"
"Believe you, Ellen!" exclaimed Markham: "oh why should I doubt you?
Your motive in revealing the happy fact of your marriage—a motive
instigated by delicacy towards her who is so soon to accompany me to the
altar—is so generous, so pure, so noble, that it speaks volumes in your
favour, Ellen; and I love you as a sister—a very dear sister."
"Yes—it is with a brother's love that you must regard me," exclaimed
Ellen, emphatically and joyfully; "and you know not what happiness your
assurance imparts to me! Let me not, however, be misunderstood in any
thing that I have already stated. I would not have you infer that I have
been married long—nor that I was a wife when I became a mother,"
continued Ellen, casting down her eyes, and blushing deeply. "No—it was
only on the 3d of January, in the present year, that I was united to him
who will one day give a father's name to his child."
"I care not to know more, Ellen!" exclaimed Mr. Monroe. "You are a
wife—and your son, as he grows up, need never be made acquainted with
the true date of his parents' union. That innocent deception will be
necessary."
"Your father is satisfied—and I am satisfied, dear Ellen," said Richard:
"we should be wrong to seek to penetrate into a secret which your good
sense would not induce you to retain inviolable without sufficient
motives. I cannot express to you my joy at the revelation which you have
made; and, believe me, you will now have no cause to blush in the
presence of my Isabella."
"Father—Richard," murmured Ellen, pressing their hands affectionately in
her own, "you have made me happy—because you have placed confidence in
my word!"
And as tears of joy stood in her large melting blue eyes, and her face
and neck were suffused in blushes, how beautiful did she appear—sweet
Ellen!
"You have banished your young friend from the room," said Markham, after
a short pause.
"But I will speedily summon her hither again," answered Ellen; "for she
also has something important to reveal to you."
"A continuation, doubtless, of the narrative of the mysterious
proceedings of the vilest of men and his female accomplice, and
concerning which you wrote me full details some weeks ago?" observed
Richard.
"Yes—there is another chapter in that strange history for you to hear,"
replied Ellen.
She then hurried from the room, and in a short time returned with
Katherine.
"Tell Richard the remainder of your story in your own way, dear Kate,"
said Ellen, as the young ladies seated themselves side by side upon the
sofa.
"It was nearly a week ago," began Katherine "that I rambled forth a
little way alone. Ellen was somewhat indisposed and unable to accompany
me; and Mr. Monroe had gone into town upon some business. I ascended the
hill, and, having enjoyed the prospect for a short time, passed down on
the opposite side, and walked through the fields. I was thinking of
various matters,—but chiefly of the cruel disappointment which I had
experienced in my recently awakened hopes of obtaining information
relative to my parentage,—when I suddenly observed a person approaching;
and I was somewhat alarmed when I perceived that it was that odious Mr.
Banks, the undertaker, whom Ellen mentioned to you in the letter which
related all that had taken place at the farm. I was about to retrace my
steps, when Mr. Banks called after me, assuring me that I had no reason
to be afraid of him, and declaring that he had important news to
communicate. My hopes were revived—I felt convinced that his business
was to renew those negotiations between myself and the old woman which
had been so suddenly interrupted; and I no longer experienced any alarm.
He accosted me, and, in his peculiar phraseology—an imitation of which I
shall not inflict upon you—declared that a friend of his possessed
certain papers which would entirely clear up the mystery wherein my
parentage was involved. You may conceive the emotions which this
communication excited within me: I trembled to put implicit faith in
what I heard—in case of disappointment—in case of deception; and yet I
clung—oh! I clung to the hope of at length being enlightened in matters
so dear to my heart. Mr. Banks spoke candidly and intelligibly—though
with wearisome circumlocution and a mass of hypocritical cant. He said
that his friend had purchased the papers of the old woman for a large
sum; and that he would only part with them for a larger sum still. In a
word, he demanded five hundred pounds; and he assured me that I should
not regret the bargain—for there were letters in my poor mother's own
handwriting."
Kate wiped away the tears that had started into her eyes as she thus
alluded to her maternal parent.
"I represented to Mr. Banks," she continued, after a pause, "that I was
unpossessed of the immediate command of the sum demanded, and that I
must either apply to the solicitor who had the management of my affairs,
or wait until your return, Richard, from Italy. I moreover explained to
him the extreme improbability that either Mr. Wharton or yourself would
permit me to pay so large an amount for the papers, unless they were
previously ascertained to be of the value represented. He seemed
prepared for this objection; for he immediately declared that if I would
name a day and an hour when I would call upon him, accompanied by any
one friend, male or female, whom I might choose to select, he would have
the papers in readiness, and that I might glance over them in order to
satisfy myself of their value and authenticity."
"That was certainly a fair proposal for such a gang of villains to
make," observed Richard; "and it invests the entire affair with the
utmost importance. Did you give the man any definite answer?"
"I assured him that I could do nothing without consulting my friends;
but that I would write to him in the course of a day or two. He advised
me to lose no time; as his friend was not a person to be trifled with."
"And that friend," said Markham, "is the villain Anthony Tidkins—beyond
all doubt. He does not dare appear actively himself in this business,
for fear of affording me a clue to his haunts; and therefore he employs
this Banks as his agent. The whole scheme is as transparent as
possible."
"Before I parted from the undertaker," observed Katherine, "I objected
to visit his house, and proposed to him that, in the event of my friends
permitting me to purchase the papers, he should allow the cursory
inspection of them either at Mr. Wharton's office or at Markham Place.
But to this arrangement he expressed his entire hostility, stating
emphatically that the documents must be examined and the purchase-money
paid at his own house—and that, too, with four-and twenty-hours' notice
of the time which I should appoint for the purpose."
"I see through it all!" exclaimed Richard. "Tidkins is afraid to trust
his own agent with the papers or with the money paid for their purchase;
and he will be concealed somewhere in Banks's house when the appointment
takes place. Hence the notice required. It is as clear as the noon-day
sun."
"On my return to the Place," continued Katherine, "I acquainted Mr.
Monroe and Ellen with the particulars of the interview between the
undertaker and myself; and as your letter, announcing the day when you
hoped to set foot on the English soil again, had arrived that very
morning, it was arranged that no decisive step should be taken until you
were present to advise and to sanction the course to be adopted. I
accordingly wrote a note to Mr. Banks, stating that I would communicate
with him in a positive manner in the course of a week or ten days."
"You acted wisely, dear Kate," said Richard; "and I now question whether
the Resurrection Man has not allowed his suspicious avarice to get the
better of his prudence. But of that we will speak on a future occasion.
You shall purchase the documents, Katherine—and without troubling Mr.
Wharton upon the subject. Thanks to the liberality of the Castelcicalan
government, my fortune is now far more ample than that which I lost; and
pecuniary vexations can never again militate against my happiness. Yes,
Katherine, we will yield to the extortion of these villains who are
trading in the dearest ties and holiest sympathies of the human heart;
but I must tax your patience somewhat—for you can well understand that
for a few days I shall be unable to devote myself to even an affair so
important as this. To-morrow you can write to Mr. Banks, and fix an
appointment at his own house—one week hence—the hour to be eight o'clock
in the evening, for it is then dark."
Katherine expressed her gratitude to our hero for this additional proof
of his kindness towards her.
The happy party remained in conversation until a late hour—unconscious
of the rapid lapse of time, so deeply were they interested in the
various topics of their discourse.
It was, indeed, nearly two o'clock in the morning when the last light
was extinguished in Markham Place.
Nevertheless, the inmates of that happy dwelling rose at an early
hour—for there was much to be done that day, and little time for the
purpose.
Ellen and Mr. Monroe repaired to town the moment breakfast was over, to
make a variety of purchases in order to render the mansion as complete
in all its arrangements as possible for the reception of the bride.
Money is endowed with a wondrously electric power to make tradesmen
bustling and active; and in spite of the little leisure left for choice
and selection, the business-habits of Mr. Monroe and the good taste of
his daughter enabled them to accomplish their task in a manner
satisfactory to all concerned. Thus, in the afternoon, waggons piled
with new and costly furniture, carts laden with chinaware and glass, and
others containing carpets, curtains, and handsome hangings for the
windows, were on their way to Markham Place.
And at the mansion, in the meantime, all was bustle and activity.
Richard had departed early in the Grand-Duke's carriage for Richmond;
but Katherine superintended all the domestic arrangements; Marian
obtained the assistance of two or three char-women in her special
department; and Whittingham forthwith added to the establishment, upon
his own responsibility, two footmen and a page, all of whom were well
known to him and happened to have been out of place at the moment.
Thus, by the time the young Prince returned home to dinner at five
o'clock, the old mansion exhibited an appearance so changed, but withal
so gay and tastefully handsome, that he was unsparing in his praises of
those who had exhibited so much zeal in rendering it fit to receive his
bride on the following day.