DEFEATED.
With those few touching words, which fell from the lips of the
long-parted father and son, they were clasped in each other’s arms, all
the bitter feeling of the six years previous swept from their hearts,
leaving nothing but love, joy, and thankfulness in their place.
Dora looked upon this meeting, sobbing for joy, and, like them,
forgetting past injuries in the bliss of the delightful present.
At length Robert wiped the tears, which would come, and taking Dora’s
hand placed it within that of his father, saying, with a proud, fond
look:
“Father, this is Dora; you surely remember her.”
“Ah! yes, indeed,” he replied, pressing the little hand warmly.
She greeted him with a charming smile, returned the hearty shake of his
hand, and was her own sweet, natural self once more. There was no cold,
scornful dignity in her manner, and in his heart Mr. Ellerton pronounced
her a most lovely and lovable little lady.
“But,” he presently said, with a comical look, first at Robert, then at
her, “by what name shall I address this young lady?”
“Dora Dupont, for the present, please,” she laughed, though her cheeks
were rosy red.
In the meantime, Ronald Edgerton, in his disguise, had seen that every
smuggler was securely bound and placed under a sufficient guard to
insure against any possibility of their escaping.
Then he sought the two Italians, and held a whispered conference with
them for a few moments; then all approached the group where Robert and
his father stood.
“Sir,” said Edgerton, with a pale face, and in a voice that quivered in
spite of his efforts to steady it, “I see you are free, and my aid in
that matter will not be necessary; but yonder sits a man,” pointing to
the squire, “with whom I have a long account to settle, and I would like
you to be present and listen to what passes between us.”
Mr. Ellerton started forward and grasped his hand warmly, saying:
“Ah! yes, my friend; I think I have seen you before. If I mistake not,
you are the one who gave me a word of cheer, while you relieved me of my
property. Strange contradiction, though,” he added, laughing, “to take
all I was worth, leave me a beggar, and then tell me to be of good
cheer. But please tell me your name, and then I’ll comply with your
request.”
“I am known here as Jake Toleman; but more of myself hereafter; we will
attend to Squire Moulton first.”
“Very well; lead the way, and we will follow.”
All proceeded toward the wretch, who glared savagely at them.
Dora and her aunt, too, drew near, and soon the others about the room
gathered around to hear what was going on.
In the back part of the room and watching with a piercing eye every
movement that was made, sat a tall, slender figure, enveloped in a heavy
cloak, with its hood drawn close around her face. No one seemed to
notice her presence, nor had she moved from her seat since she entered
the place. She had quietly followed one file of men when they entered,
and seated herself near the entrance.
Now she suddenly rose and drew near the group surrounding the squire,
and listened eagerly to every word that was spoken.
Jake Toleman, as he called himself, stepped forward in front of Squire
Moulton and said:
“Do you know me, sir?”
“Curse you, no, only as a smuggler, who was paid to do my will; nor do I
wish to know you,” he growled.
“I can easily believe the latter part of your reply,” replied the man,
grimly, then added, “but the first part I deny. Look!”
He pulled off his heavy wig and whiskers as he spoke.
“Ha! Edgerton! Traitor!” exclaimed the wretch, starting angrily up.
“No, sir, you are wrong; Edgerton is not my name, it is only the name of
a character I have assumed.”
“Who are you, then—and how came you here?” he asked, curiosity getting
the better of his fear for a moment.
“Your first question I will answer presently. I am here because I
followed you. I knew your errand, and I came to thwart you at every
point. I have been on your track for the last six or seven years. Why,
do you ask? Because I had an object in view; you possessed something
which I wanted, and which at last I have got.”
“What—what is it?” gasped the squire, wildly, and striving to free
himself from his fetters.
“This!” said the other, sternly, taking a paper from his bosom,
unfolding it, and holding it up before his eyes.
“Blast you! what did you want of that? Ten thousand fiends take you—who
are you, I say?”
“I am one whom you have deeply wronged. You have made my life desolate,
as well as that of others, by misrepresenting my character, my
intentions, and everything connected with me. Would you know who I am?
then look again!”
He hastily pulled off his rough coat, revealing a neat and rich suit of
broadcloth; then off came his fierce, heavy eyebrows and mustache—he had
previously removed the swarthy tint from his face—and he stood forth the
gentleman whom we saw in earnest conversation with Fredrich Weimher at
the inn!
“Alfred Ellerton!”
“My brother! thank Heaven!”
These exclamations burst simultaneously from the trembling lips of the
villain before him, and from Mr. Ellerton, who stood at his side.
Ralph, who had been leaning despondently upon a chair near by, sprang
eagerly up and came nearer the deeply interesting group.
At this instant, a sharp, shrill cry rang through the room, and a
woman’s figure rushed frantically forward, and threw herself at the feet
of him who stood at last revealed in his true character.
It was the woman before mentioned, enveloped in the heavy cloak.
Alfred Ellerton’s face paled to the hue of death, his heart throbbed
wildly, and he shook in every limb as he stooped and gently raised the
prostrate woman to her feet.
She leaned against him, scarcely able to sustain her own weight.
With nervous and trembling fingers he quickly unfastened her wrappings
and cast them from her, revealing a tall, graceful form clad in a rich
black velvet robe.
She was queenly. Her hair, black as midnight, was twined around her
small head like a coronet, but her face, which every one imagined must
be beautiful, was hidden in her trembling hands.
The man who so tenderly supported her drew them firmly but gently away,
and eagerly scanned her face for a moment, then clasping her in a close,
fond embrace, exclaimed, in joyful accents:
“Rose, my wife!” and she nestled in his arms once more, a happy wife,
feeling that all was right, that he had been true to her all these
years, was true to her still; and she trusted him with the full
confidence of her noble, loving heart.
Squire Moulton sank back nearly fainting, the moment his sister’s face
was revealed to him, terror plainly depicted upon every feature. He knew
and realized now that the castle of revenge which he had been rearing
all these long years was about to tumble and crush him in its fall. Oh,
if he were only free he would fight his way from that dreadful place; he
felt as if he could defy them all, were his arms only at liberty, or
even if he had that cruel dagger which he had so cunningly prepared for
another, he would plunge it into himself and thus escape his present
torture.
Poor Ralph, as he saw those whom his heart told him were his father and
mother, longed to spring forward and clasp the two to his heart; but—the
doubt lingered still “was he a lawful child?” So he controlled himself,
and resolved to wait for further developments.