RUPERT MORRICE MAKES AMENDS
It was a very subdued man who, shortly after breakfast, walked into
Rosabelle’s sitting-room. It cannot be said that Morrice was in any
sense of the words arrogant or overbearing, but his innate strength
of mind and character gave him a certain feeling of superiority over
ordinary men which reflected itself in his general bearing, the
incisiveness of his utterances, the vigour of his gestures, as he
talked. To-day, all these symptoms were absent.
He had passed a sleepless night, bitterly upbraiding himself with
having committed a grave injustice, he of all men, who prided himself
on being inflexibly just. His face was drawn and white, his heavy eyes
showed the want of rest. He stood before the girl almost humble, filled
with remorse and self-accusation.
“Rosabelle, I want you to do me an immediate favour.”
“Of course, dearest uncle.” The sympathetic girl’s heart went out to
him in his misery. It was terrible to see this proud, strong man so
abased in his own estimation, standing before her almost as a criminal
might have stood before a judge. “You know what pleasure it will give
me.”
“I want you to order the car at once, go straight to Richard, and do
your best to make my peace with him. Tell him that I am following
you in half an hour to entreat his forgiveness. If he will accord it
to me,” he added in a broken voice, “I will devote my life to making
amends.”
Rosabelle flung her arms round her uncle’s neck, her eyes full of happy
tears. “Oh, gladly will I go on such an errand. And, of course, Dick
will forgive. All along he has always admitted the terrible strength
of the evidence against him, and told me that nobody but I would have
believed in his innocence.”
“You believed in him because you loved him, child. I loved him, too,
but the love of man lacks the divine quality that always animates that
of a woman,” admitted the humbled man in a voice of deep sadness.
Well she knew as she drove along to the little cottage at Petersham
where Richard Croxton had been eating his heart out for so many weary
weeks, that the treachery of his wife had affected her husband less
than his injustice towards the son of his old sweetheart.
Little need to describe the rapture of the lovers when the wonderful
news had been told. Hand in hand they sat, discussing the golden future
before them, for had not Rupert Morrice avowed his intention of making
amends?
And then, half an hour later, for even in moments of stress, this
capable man of business was ever punctual to the minute, Morrice
unlatched the garden gate of the tiny cottage and found Richard waiting
for him at the door.
Silently the two men clasped hands. It was the elder who spoke first.
“So Rosabelle has induced you to forgive me? She was ever a peacemaker.”
There was perfect sincerity in the young man’s tone when he answered.
“The past is buried, sir, absolutely and irrevocably, so far as I
am concerned. My only regret is that my innocence should have to be
established at such a terrible cost to yourself.”
The financier waved his hand with one of his old imperious gestures.
“No more on that subject, Dick. Thank God, her passing out of my life
will not make the difference to me that yours did.”
Richard was deeply touched. By those few words he knew how deeply his
benefactor had suffered from the severance of their old affectionate
relations.
Morrice took the young man by the arm and led him into the little
parlour where Rosabelle, flushed with her new-found happiness, stood
awaiting them. He took a hand of each and joined them together.
“That is the dearest wish of your hearts, is it not?” he said, a kindly
smile lighting up the drawn face. “Well, God bless you both, and give
you all the happiness you deserve. Sweet little Rosabelle has always
been as dear to me as if she had been my own child. You, Richard, will
resume your place in my house as an adopted son. But I would wish you
to defer your return for a week or two till all this painful business
is over. When you come back, we will draw a close curtain shutting
out that hateful past. I shall live for the future, for you and
Rosabelle—for your children.”
* * * * *
A few months later Richard Croxton was married to his loving and
faithful Rosabelle, and rewarded with a partnership in the famous firm.
Mr. Morrice still believes in his wonderful safe, although he does not
talk about it as much as he used, but he is very particular now about
his two keys which he carries himself. He does not leave them lying
about in odd places, and his memorandum of the mechanism is securely
locked up.
Mrs. Morrice lives with the friend of her youth, Alma Buckley, and that
friendship is the only comfort in her miserable life. Jack Graham has
dropped the name of Archie Brookes, and, still helped by his unhappy
mother, has turned over a new leaf and is now in the way of earning
an honest livelihood in the commercial world. The fate of his former
protector, Sir George, struck terror into him, and proved a salutary
warning of what can befall a man who enters upon evil courses.
The Croxtons have a charming home in one of the prettiest spots in
Surrey, within easy distance of London by rail or car. But the greater
portion of the year is spent in Deanery Street, with the grey-bearded
financier whose experience of matrimony was so bitter, and who is never
so happy as when he is in their society. The bad time they all went
through is forgotten in their present happiness, and the name of Mrs.
Morrice never passes their lips. The tender-hearted Rosabelle often
thinks compassionately of her, but there is no forgiveness for her in
the hearts of either of the two men whom she so deeply wronged.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes
pg 47 Changed: If the criminal know as “Tubby”
to: If the criminal known as “Tubby”
pg 155 Changed: If could not be Rosabelle
to: It could not be Rosabelle
pg 172 Changed: His face frew darker and darker
to: His face grew darker and darker
pg 224 Changed: it was in any cricumstances
to: it was in any circumstances