FOILED.
While the unhappy woman was pleading so earnestly for recognition, and a
welcome, the heartless squire had in a measure recovered from his fright
at thus being confronted by one whom he had long supposed dead, and who
now threatened to overthrow all his careful plottings; and he exclaimed
in a voice of scornful wrath:
“You are not Rose Moulton; you cannot prove it. You are only some vile
imposter who has picked up small bits of gossip, and, cleverly putting
them together, has come to frighten me with the story, doubtless
expecting to be bought off. Go! I will have nothing to do with you.”
“Your heart is harder than adamant, but, thank Heaven, it is in my power
to prove my identity. Look!”
She raised her long, bony hand, and held it out to him.
On the palm lay a large and heavy brooch. She touched a spring, and a
lid flew open, revealing the face of a very handsome man.
Squire Moulton started, and a look of hatred flashed over his
countenance; for the face that looked out upon him was like the face of
his deadly foe, only with a younger and fresher expression.
“Look!” she said again, and touched another spring.
The face of the man disappeared, and in its place that of a young and
exquisitely beautiful girl appeared.
The dark and star-like eyes had a wistful look in their depths; the
ripe, full lips a tempting curve, and masses of raven hair fell upon her
neck and shoulders, spotless and fair as polished marble.
The evil man smote his brow with his hand, and caught his breath
convulsively at sight of this radiant creature.
“Rose,” burst from his pale lips.
Again she repeated that one word:
“Look!”
Another spring yielded to her touch, and a dimpled, rosy-cheeked cherub,
with black eyes and hair, smiled joyously up at him.
With an oath he sprang to seize the strange jewel from her; but quickly
shutting the several lids, she hid it in her bosom.
“Oh, Heaven!” he exclaimed, “you are, you must be Rose!”
“You acknowledge me, then, at last!” she cried, with a wave of hope in
her voice. “Oh, bless you for Ralph’s sake. Do not harden your heart
again, for my life has been a desolate waste. My name was a misnomer,
for nothing but thorns and briers have grown along my life-path. Say, my
brother, speak, and tell me that I have not come to plead in vain—that
you will give me back my place in your heart and home, and, I promise
you, no servant ever was more faithful and devoted than I will prove, if
you will but lift me out of the depths of my present woe.”
Vain, useless pleading! Hearts of stone do not yield to a woman’s tears.
With a bitter oath he spurned her from him.
“No, you shameless wretch!” he exclaimed. “Get you gone from my sight,
for I swear, by all that’s sacred, that you shall never cross my
threshold. My house shall burn to ashes before it shall be polluted by
your vile presence!”
She bent her head upon her hands in silent anguish for a moment. Her
heart was crushed anew within her as its returning affection was thus
outraged. All hope died within her bosom. An outcast she had been for
many long and weary years, and an outcast she must remain.
The squire smiled grimly. It pleased him well to see her writhing in her
agony at his feet, for he deemed the conquest now would be an easy one.
But can a mother forget her young?
Never!
“Where is my boy?” at length she demanded, hoarsely. “How have you
brought him up? Is he as evil and cruel as yourself? or have you kept
that one trust sacred? Tell me!”
“Rose Moulton—for I am convinced that you are indeed she whom I once
called sister, for no other could have had that brooch—for this once,
and only this once, will I condescend to answer your question, then you
must tramp. I never will recognize you. You chose your own path in life,
and now you may reap the fruits of it. After I left you that night, as I
thought, to die, I resolved never to think of you again; you might die
and rot, you and yours, before I would lift a finger to save you.
“I did not leave the city, for it was my pleasure to stay. I was
plotting vengeance against one whom I had followed for years. A week
went by, when all at once it flashed upon me, that if I had your boy, I
could use him to carry out my plans; so I resolved to go back and get
the young one——”
“Oh, Heaven! pity—spare me!” groaned the stricken mother, sinking back
among the bushes, and burying her face in her emaciated hands.
“Yes,” pursued the villain, “I knew if rightly trained, he would be just
the one for my purpose. You know all about that silly story of my youth;
how Ellerton stole my bride. And that was not all, either, that I had
against that family. Your own seared heart, and blighted life, will bear
me witness to that.
“Well, Ellerton was in Naples. I had followed him there. His wife was
dead, but he, poor love-sick youth, could not get over it, and so went
abroad to take his mind from his grief. His son and nurse were with him.
He left them at Naples while he went traveling for a few months.
“His boy was not very well—was pale and puny, but after his father’s
departure he began to pick up, and grew wonderfully, until I was struck
with his strong resemblance to Ralph, who you know was always small for
his age. There was two years difference in their ages, but you would
never have known it, and a stranger would have sworn they were twins.
Satan must have put the idea into my head, for I resolved to change the
children. I resolved to have my darling’s child to myself, and let him
have yours to bring up and educate.”
“Ralph Moulton, curse you—curse you!” shrieked the poor creature,
rocking to and fro in her agony.
“Hold, I have not finished yet. You wanted to know how your boy had been
brought up, and I am telling you. I felt assured that if I could effect
the change without the nurse’s knowledge, the father would never be the
wiser, for they were so near alike.
“For weeks and weeks I watched, but it was of no use; the nurse was
always with him, never leaving him for a moment. But one day fortune
favored me. They were out in a grove behind their villa, and the boy
begged for a drink of water. The nurse tried to make him go in to get
it, but he was obstinate and refused.
“At length she consented to go, but told him not to move from the place
while she was gone. I almost shouted for joy, for I felt my hour of
triumph had come. I stepped from my place of concealment, taking Ralph
with me, and seated him beside the other one. It was a picture I shall
never forget. The two children, as near alike as two peas, sat looking
at each other for a moment in silent astonishment. But I could not stop
to look long, and lifting the one I was after in my arms I turned to
flee, when a heavy blow felled me.
“The nurse had gone like a flash for the water, and was back in an
instant; she had seen me take the child from the seat where she had left
him, and comprehended the whole thing. She struck me on the head with
the tumbler, and seizing the child, sped away into the villa. Cursing my
ill-luck, I took Ralph and made off. The next I heard of them was that
Mr. Ellerton had been sent for; the nurse had had an apoplectic fit and
was dying—people said she had received a fright the day before; what it
was no one could learn, for she would not speak of it until her master
came. When he arrived it was too late, and she died trying to tell him
something.
“What that something was I know, and you can guess; so my secret was
safe, and I thought I might have another opportunity to effect the
change. But he suddenly left the city, taking the boy with him, and for
several years I lost sight of them.
“We finally met in this place, but the boys had not retained their
resemblance to each other; besides, they were too old, so I had to give
up the idea. I have sought in vain for other ways to wreak my vengeance,
but never had an opportunity until a little while ago, when I played him
a fine trick. But that’s not here nor there.
“I have recently taken Ralph into my confidence, only I have changed the
story to suit my purposes. I have told him that it was Ellerton whom you
sent for when you were dying—that you were his mistress before he
married, and you sent for him, begging he would take your boy and
educate him. He refused to do so, scorning alike him and you. I have
also forged papers proving that you were legally married, and that he is
in reality the rightful son and heir. He believes every word I have told
him, and being brought up, you know, under right influences, he enters
heartily into my plans for vengeance,”
Nothing could have been more fiendish than the expression with which
Squire Moulton concluded these dark revelations.
“Heaven pity me that I was ever born, or that I ever gave birth to a
child for you to bring up to such wickedness and woe,” groaned the poor
woman, in a voice of despair.
Then suddenly springing to her feet, she shrieked:
“It shall not be, you villain! I will thwart your fell designs; I will
go to my boy and reveal the whole plot—tell him what a foul lie you have
told him, and that you are but making a tool of him. I will reveal
myself to him and expose your villainy. You shall not ruin my boy!”
“You will reveal yourself to your son, will you?” sneered the other.
“What a revelation that will be! Do you think he will believe that you
are his mother? You look like the mother of the boy who is to inherit a
million! He would be proud of you, no doubt!”
She flushed deeply at his cruel insinuations, but replied, sadly:
“If there is one particle of filial affection in his heart he will show
it, and believe me when I show him this.”
She held up the brooch before him.
He had forgotten she had it, but he now knew that she could prove her
story with it, and he resolved to gain possession of it by fair means or
foul.
“You said you were destitute,” he said, trying to assume a more friendly
air; “what will you sell me that bauble for? I will give you a good
price for it.”
“I thank you, sir,” she replied, with biting scorn. “But I do not choose
to part with such valuable evidence in my behalf. No, sir! this will
prove my story, and I will use it. Such wickedness as you meditate shall
not go on.”
“You talk well of wickedness; pray, how long since you became such a
saint? But enough of this,” he added, sternly. “How do you suppose Ralph
would receive your story? Do you think he would love a woman who had
brought him into the world to suffer shame and disgrace? Do you think he
would feel tenderly toward a mother who confesses she deserted him in
infancy, and led a dissolute, abandoned life ever since? And, moreover,
would he thank you for revealing to him the fact that he had no name?
Madam, take warning; you don’t know your son as well as I do.”
“Oh!” wept the desolate creature, realizing the truth of all he said.
“But you lied to him about his parentage, and—”
“What of that? Ought not his name to be Ralph Ellerton?”
“Yes, oh, yes; but——”
“Well, then let him claim it, and get the fortune if he can. The papers
I have will prove all I want, in spite of all Ellerton can do. I’ll make
a bargain with you. If you’ll help the matter along, when it is all
settled, I will acknowledge you as a relative, perhaps a cousin or
something of the kind.”
“Never! You do but insult me the more by such an offer! I tell you it
shall never be. If I cannot see Ralph, I can at least go to Mr. Ellerton
and warn him, so that his son may be saved from such suffering and
disgrace. I have sinned in the past, but I trust I have repented, and am
willing to do what is right now, even to the sacrificing of my own son!
Let me pass.”
She tried to leave the arbor, but he barred the way, standing firm
within the entrance.
“No,” he said, “you do not go until you give me those pictures, and a
promise not to meddle with my affairs.”
Her heart quailed, for there was a wicked look in his eye that was
fearful. But she put on the semblance of boldness.
“Let me pass.”
She drew herself to her full height, raised her head haughtily, sweeping
back with one hand the heavy masses of her hair, while she flashed her
brilliant eyes witheringly upon him.
She must have been glorious in her youthful days, for there was majesty
even now in her look and mien, despite the soiled and tattered clothing.
“Never!” he growled between his teeth.
Swifter than a flash she darted toward him, seized him around one knee,
and he fell to the ground, crashing and struggling among the thick
branches of the arbor vitæ.
Another instant, and she had vanished from his sight like a ghost.
Curses loud and deep burst in a torrent from Squire Moulton’s foaming
lips, as, painfully arising, he made his way from the place.
Scarcely had he stepped outside the circle, when a sight met his eyes
which caused him to totter back, half fainting and gasping for breath.