While Henry continued thus entranced with perplexity, Marion's
attention was gradually attracted by a noise at her side, and, looking
suddenly round, she was startled to behold crouching in the remotest
corner of the room, the figure of a human being, which filled her with
horror and dismay, so haggard, so emaciated, so unlike anything she had
ever looked upon before, that scarcely could she suppress a shriek of
dismay. It was a face of woe and wretchedness, once seen never to be
forgotten, and she had formerly seen it. The sunken temples, the hollow
eyes, the lurid glare of insanity in the eye, and the clusters of hair,
black as death, blown by the night-wind in large damp masses on his
forehead, all brought the wretched Howard instantaneously to her mind;
and, grasping Henry's arm, with an exclamation of terror, she attempted
to hurry with him out of the room. Scarcely, however, had she made a
step towards the door, when the madman darted forward, and closed it,
then wheeling round, he said, in a low, husky voice, while his strength
seemed so subdued, that the grasp of an infant might have mastered
him,--
"You have discovered me, and there is no escape! Be it so! 'Welcome
death,' as the rat said, when the trap fell down. Here the tragedy
began, and here let it end!"
He paused for several minutes, and gradually his face assumed a look of
ungovernable anguish, while he added, in a dreary, desolate tone,
unlike any human voice,--
"I could weep for my own ruin,--for my sister's,--but the time is past.
Never shall I shed another tear! Our sin be on the Abbe Mordaunt's
head! The withering curse of a dying man be on his head! The misery of
eternal ruin be on his head, as it is on mine! For his own purposes he
nurtured every wild passion in our young blood. He taught me the mad
ambition that was my ruin,--promised me impunity here and hereafter, if
I assisted in his schemes; and now, after being his tool, I am, like a
useless tool, cast aside! But could he silence my outraged conscience?
No! The gibbet is forever hovering before my sight, and the curse of
heaven is borne to my soul in every blast!"
"Yet you are still in this world of hope, where none can be finally
condemned," said Henry, solemnly. "Till the grave closes over your
head, mercy and pardon may yet be asked, and may yet be granted! Ernest
Anstruther, from the hour of my mother's death until now, you have most
barbarously injured me, but mortal man must not keep up immortal anger.
I only obey our beneficent Creator in saying, that if you repent, I
heartily forgive you. Your life is probably forfeited to the outraged
laws of man, but may your soul find mercy in its utmost need."
"I have been your deadliest foe, De Lancey, and haunted your steps with
my hatred from childhood; but it is done," continued Anstruther, with a
look of bleak and barren agony. "I will not live to be caged in prison,
a spectacle of scorn and infamy, to die a death of shame. How different
from what I once hoped! There shall be no to-morrow for me in this
world! A fire is at my heart, which can only be quenched by death! It
is better not to be, than to be miserable! I shall give my body to the
beasts of the field, or the birds in the air. I shall find a bed where
no dreams shall haunt me, and a sleep from which there is no awakening!
A wolf may lose his teeth, but you cannot change his nature! As a
madman I have lived, and as a madman I shall die! We must sleep in the
bed we prepare for ourselves! Before that sun shall have traveled
another hour, you, Henry De Lancey, shall be raised to honor, and I
shall have died, covered with infamy and disgrace. I never stir now,
without the fatal means of release."
Marion shivered from head to foot, at the ghastly sound of Anstruther's
voice, but paralyzed with terror, she dared not stir, for already a
loaded pistol was in his hand. A fearful ghastly smile distorted his
countenance,--the smile of a maniac,--a smile such as may be seen on
the lips of a corpse, and an expression gleamed in his eye, which it
curdled her blood to look upon, and might have struck terror into the
strongest mind; but Henry, in a calm, deliberate voice, replied,--
"There is no such dreamless sleep, Anstruther, as you describe! Even
Satan himself believes in futurity! Whatever be your sorrow, and worse
than sorrow, your sin, do not madly hasten to that world where there is
no peace and no pardon. Take pity upon yourself."
"Mine has been a desperate life, and it shall have a desperate end,"
replied Ernest, with a sullen, deadly smile on his bloodless lips; but
trying to assume a tone of reckless indifference, he added, "I never
was one to choke upon the tail! I have gazed at the moon, and fallen in
the gutter, but, De Lancey, for the sake of that good old man, Sir
Arthur, who was your benefactor and mine, I will not die without doing
you justice. The wax of secrecy may now be broken, and here are papers
clearly and indisputably to prove that you are the legitimate son of
Lord Doncaster. They purify your mother's character from every
aspersion, and testify without doubt your title to be Lord Dunraven."
Had an apparition arisen through the floor, or had a cannon gone off at
Henry's ear, he could scarcely have been more startled and astonished,
while, with an exclamation of joy and rapture, Marion rushed up to him,
saying, in accents of tremulous joy, while he stood bewildered with
surprise, and then grasping the packet in his hand, staggered to a
seat, "It is then as uncle Arthur once almost believed! Oh, Henry, what
joy! If he had but lived to hear it! Can this be possible!"
After a few moments given to emotion and wonder, while Henry seemed
almost as if his spirit had taken wing from the body, Marion having in
some degree recovered herself, looked round, and observed with surprise
that they were alone! The madman, taking advantage of Henry's
agitation, had rushed wildly from the house, to be seen and heard of no
more. Henry rose, intending instantly to give an alarm, and to follow
in pursuit of Anstruther; but scarcely had he stirred a step, before he
and Marion were startled by hearing, in the adjoining room, a shriek so
shrill and appalling, so heart-broken and delirious, that in an agony
of alarm, they hurried forward to the hall. A confused murmur, a buzz
of suppressed astonishment had arisen among the assembled crowd, in
which were many countenances expressing strong fear, others wearing
only an air of gaping curiosity, many with their hands clasped in
amazement, and others expanding them in terror, but all listening with
looks of motionless attention, while every eye was turned towards the
table on which the murdered body had been laid, and a deep silence
ensued, of hushed expectation, as if the stage were about to exhibit a
tragedy of exciting interest.
Henry glanced rapidly around, and saw standing beside the corpse a tall
female, whose aspect filled all present with surprise. Her worn and
haggard countenance seemed cold and rigid as the figure on a
tomb-stone, and her cheek had become overspread with a damp and leaden
paleness; while in speechless horror, which seemed as if it amounted
almost to insanity, she pointed her long, ghastly finger towards the
body. A hundred eyes were now bent on hers, and her bewildered glance
swept for a moment round the assembled crowd, with a look of
unutterable wretchedness, till at length her eye fell on Lord
Doncaster. On him she now fixed an unshrinking gaze, while she spoke in
a low, hoarse whisper, which sounded with terrifying distinctness
through the large old hall, and fell upon every ear with a solemnity
and awfulness like the knell of death.
"I knew all, but could not hinder it! No! I would have died to prevent
this! There was death in my brother's eye when he left me! I pursued
him, but it was too late! Day by day, step by step, we have sunk into
deeper crime and misery! Who would think that I had ever been young,
innocent, and happy? The barrier was first thrown down by him who lies
here! Hour by hour the deepening shadows grew darker! Long, long have
these eyes been drenched with the tears of a broken heart! My wretched
brother swore that every pang I suffered should be avenged! I would
have pardoned, I would have forgotten all, if I might but have saved my
brother, and sheltered _him_ from death. I have warned, I have wept,
implored! I have prayed on my very knees; but in vain! All is now over!
Every law of God and man has been violated! None in all this assembly
can see as I do the horror of our guilt--none can hate it more! The
past maddens me, and the future--oh! what is there in the future for
me!"
With a shuddering groan, Mary Anstruther sunk back on a chair, and she
trembled like a leaf in the blast of autumn, while a mortal silence
ensued. Lord Doncaster with brows knit, and lips firmly compressed,
seemed resolute to conceal the emotions evidently struggling and
boiling within his breast; and the by-standers, in dismay, had all
shrunk back from the unhappy woman; but Henry now, with an irresistible
impulse of pity, approached, and spoke a few soothing words to her,
when she suddenly looked up, and seeing the expression of unfeigned
commiseration with which he gazed at her, burning tears forced
themselves into her eyes, and, with a look of piercing woe, she added
in a low, husky, choking voice--
"I have asked pity, and all are not pitiless! I am used to misery--that
cannot draw tears from me now, but kindness does,--your kindness
especially. My heart was dumb and frozen! I never thought to weep
again. Many is the long day since I have been pitied! Many is the long
day since I have deserved it! Yes!" added she, grasping Henry's arm
with almost iron force, while she spoke in a voice so strange and deep,
it thrilled to every heart. "The time is come for me to tell all and
die. The secret of your life was begun with bloodshed, and here in
bloodshed it has ended. The thought that your mother died by my
brother's hand has, from that fatal hour, gnawed like a fiery serpent
at my heart. My soul is shaken to the very dust; but while I have
breath to speak, let me confess how we slandered your mother--how we
caused her to be driven as an outcast from this house--how we deceived
your father, and cheated you, Henry De Lancey, of your birthright."
At this moment Lord Doncaster, who had seemed almost paralyzed with
agitation, and as if the springs of life were drying up within him,
suddenly rose, and waving back the Abbe Mordaunt and others who were
crowding around him, he placed himself opposite the wretched woman, and
fixed a look of searching examination on her death-struck countenance,
while he seemed afraid to trust his own voice, lest it should betray
the tumult of his feelings; but after a momentary struggle, he passed
his hand across his eyes, and said in a low tone of doubt and
uncertainty,--
"It seems like a resurrection from the dead! It cannot be! Is Mary
Anstruther yet in being?"
"I have dreamed of such a man once," replied she, casting a desolate
look around. "My heart was not then bursting, as it is now, because
none can help me."
Henry's eye became fastened with a look of settled intensity on the
countenance of Lord Doncaster, who walked a few agitated steps about
the room, and then added, in a voice of stern astonishment:
"You speak of a deception! Let me know all? What of Laura Mordaunt?"
"Not of Laura Mordaunt, my Lord, but your lawful wife! The story of
your previous marriage, invented by the Abbe, was a hideous lie. Had
she been told the reason why you spurned her from the house, she could
have disproved it. We told her only that your affections had been
changed. She was too proud to complain; yet she did at last write a
letter, which never reached you. She there made a solemn appeal to your
justice and compassion, claiming for her son the affection and the
station to which he is entitled. She became persuaded, by the Abbe's
contrivance, that her marriage had been illegal. All--all was foul and
horrid falsehood. We each had our various interests to serve! the Abbe
to embezzle his niece's fortune--Ernest to keep his place near the
succession--and I----"
Mary Anstruther's almost unearthly voice, which sounded unlike the
voice of a human being, now entirely failed; her teeth chattered, she
shivered from head to foot, and her eyes became fixed on the stiffened
corpse by her side, while Lord Doncaster, with a scarcely audible groan
of bitter regret, locked his hands over his heart, as if to still its
palpitations, and listened, in agitated silence, for more. At length
the wretched woman continued, while her voice became faint, and her
very blood seemed to freeze at the sound of her own words.
"The slow progress of a breaking heart was not rapid enough for
Ernest's hatred. He believed she was the cause of our ruin, and he
murdered her! I would die a thousand deaths now to restore Laura
Mordaunt--to undo all that I have done! Oh! that memory itself would
fail! I am haunted and tortured by those over-living remembrances!"
Lord Doncaster looked as if a flash of lightning had blinded him,
while, after gazing for a moment in almost vacant astonishment at Mary
Anstruther, he put his hand to his head, and, with a suppressed groan,
leaned against the table for support. A feather might have thrown him
down, but he was evidently trying to collect his senses, and murmured
hurriedly to himself in broken accents, "No! no! Impossible! It is all
proved! She was guilty! Who can doubt it?"
"My Lord! it was a cruel, horrid, slanderous falsehood!" cried Mary, in
a tone of solemn earnestness. "Night and the grave seem already closed
over my wretched head. Take, then, the assurance of a dying creature,
that Lord Mordaunt was innocent. Let me do one good action on the
earth, before I perish for ever! She deserved a better fate! Let her
young son enjoy the titles and honors of his ancestors. Letters will be
produced after my death, proving his right. I desire all here to
witness the last words I shall speak before my lips are sealed by death
in everlasting silence, that there stands Henry, Lord Dunraven, the
lawful son of Lord Doncaster! And now my destiny is accomplished!
Already I seem separated from the living, though not yet united to the
dead! Let my end come quickly, as it comes surely."
Henry's very heart trembled with agitation, and it seemed as if his
veins ran lightning, while he fixed a long and agitated look on Lord
Doncaster, whose countenance became convulsed with agitation, his brain
seemed contracted by a spasm, the thread of life appeared suddenly to
snap, a thick mist obscured his sight, and before his newly found son
could rush forward to his support, he had fallen to the ground as if
shot.
The room was immediately cleared of strangers, and the Abbe Mordaunt
fled without delay to the continent, where he soon after buried himself
in the monastery of La Trappe.
During several succeeding days, all that mortal man could do was done
to restore Lord Doncaster, while Henry watched over his
recently-discovered parent with incessant attention, and hoped, but
hoped in vain, that Lord Doncaster might live to recognise and bless
him; but the varied and vehement emotions of the last few hours had
been too much for his aged frame. He continued during some time
insensible, and, at length, after a short but severe struggle, expired.
Henry was acknowledged, however, before long, and recognised by the
world, as not a doubt could remain on any mind of his identity and his
claims, after those papers had been read bequeathed to him by the
Anstruthers, and before the wretched Mary had quitted the earthly scene
of her misfortunes and crimes, she was consoled by the forgiveness and
the prayers of young De Lancey, now Marquis of Doncaster.
The whole unfathomable abyss of Henry's feelings and affections was now
irradiated with hope, and he felt himself almost overwhelmed by the
torrent of happiness about to pour upon him, when, hiding his face with
his hands, tears of indescribable--of almost insufferable joy gushed
from his eyes. The change seemed sudden as spring, bursting forth
amidst the arid deserts of Siberia, after the snow has been melted away
in the night, and the barren ground is, as by magic, clothed with
blossoms, and warmed with sunshine. It appeared as if a word might yet
break the charm--as if he might awaken and find the whole a dream of
enchantment, but the crowning of all his earthly joy, was, when he at
length claimed, in the open face of day, that true, constant, and
disinterested affection of Caroline Smythe, which had so long been to
him like a spring of water in the desert to a lonely traveller,
cheering and refreshing his heart in the long pilgrimage of life.
Oh, doubly sweet is sunshine after rain,
Rest after toil, port after stormy seas.
The language of happy love, interesting above all else to the parties
themselves, is uninteresting to others, but who ever had a brighter lot
than Caroline and Henry, while they looked far into the future,
anticipating together a long life of mutual confidence, cheered by "the
soul's calm sunshine, and the heart's best joy."
"I begin now to fancy nobody in the world happy but myself!" exclaimed
Henry, gaily. "I am almost ashamed to be so much better off than I
deserve! but, as Lady Townly says, Caroline, 'We must squeeze as little
as possible of the lemon into our matrimonial sherbet!'"
"Must I actually give up the delightful romance of loving you as a
friendless adventurer, Henry? What would Lydia Languish have said to
such a droll, every-day, common-place reality? I do not absolutely hate
you," said Caroline, with a conscious laugh, and a slight relapse into
her usual capricious vivacity, "but we must have one little quarrel
yet! There is a circumstance respecting me, which has hitherto, for
very good reasons, been kept secret, and now, it must, most
unfortunately, come out!"
"What can that be?" asked Henry, smilingly watching the variations of
Caroline's countenance. "I am quite as ready for a quarrel as you are;
therefore tell me the worst at once!"
"It is an objection against me which I heard you once say would, in any
case, be insuperable!" added Caroline, archly. "When all is told, you
will certainly change your mind!"
"Then I shall be much changed, indeed! What magical spell do you intend
to use?"
"Henry! you made a rash vow once, in my hearing, never to marry an
heiress," said Caroline, trying to speak in a tone of gravity, and
looking away. "Would you not abhor and avoid the heiress of Howard
Abbey, including all the broad acres of Beaujolie Manor?"
Henry looked at Caroline in silent perplexity; but the blush, the
frolicsome laugh, and the air of arch caprice with which she spoke, all
at once enlightened his mind, and, seizing her hand with the most
lover-like _empressement_, he gaily exclaimed, "Well, Caroline! since
it must be so, I forgive you for being an heiress; but in no one whom I
liked less could I have endured this! I love you in spite of it! I do,
indeed! You merited already more than I ever can offer; but, Caroline,
we love each other truly; and, for better, as well as for worse, I
shall love you forever!"