FORGIVENESS.
It was several minutes ere the reunited family could compose themselves.
But at length Alfred Ellerton conquered in a measure his emotion, and
said:
“I thank Heaven for these unexpected and unmerited blessings. It is more
than I ever hoped for, to have both wife and child restored to me at
once. But, my son, we will now listen to your mother’s story, after
which we will hear what you may have to tell us. I know my dear ones
have seen much of suffering, but I trust all is over now, and that the
future has only blessings in store for us.”
Ralph turned again to his mother, seated himself by her side, and took
her delicate hand in his.
She smiled a sweet, fond smile at the caressing touch, and clasped her
other hand over it, then turning to her husband, began her tale:
“My life has been a dreary one indeed! When I returned to our home,
Alfred, and found your letter, or what I supposed to be yours, and also
that the only proof of our marriage was missing, I could not do
otherwise than believe you false and heartless, as your cruel words
indicated.
“I believe I was deranged for awhile, for I remembered nothing for
several days after. Finally, I went to my brother Ralph, and questioned
him.
“I knew he never had liked you, and had never felt the same toward me
after I married you; but I was not prepared for the fury and abuse which
burst forth upon my defenseless head, when I asked him if he knew
anything about your sudden disappearance. He answered affirmatively,
saying he knew you were a vile and unprincipled man; that he had warned
me against you in the beginning, but I had chosen my path in life, and
now must walk in it; he would have nothing to do with a nameless outcast
like myself.
“I bore all meekly until he hinted that you had fled to the arms of
another; then with a shriek of agony I took my child, and I too fled!
“I cared not where I went, so that I hid my shame and sorrow from
familiar and prying eyes. My brother, glorying in my anguish, had
already blazed the story of your desertion around, and I left the place,
leaving no clew by which they could trace me.
“I sold my jewels, which, though few in number, were rare, and realized
sufficient to take me abroad; and I went to Naples. There for a year or
two I lived quietly with my baby. He was my only comfort, for I shunned
acquaintances, and lived wholly by myself.
“Finally he sickened, and I feared he would die. For weeks I watched
him, giving myself no rest, until the fever turned, and I knew he would
live. Had I lost my idol then, I think I should have taken my own life;
existence without him would have been such a burden. I prayed as only a
broken-hearted wife and mother can pray, and Heaven in His mercy heard,
and gave me back my child from the jaws of death!
“Then my slender stock of money began to fail, and it was the old, old
story of cruel poverty, seeking for employment, and finding scarcely
sufficient to sustain life.
“At length when Ralph was four years old, my own health began to fail,
though I still dragged myself about, and strove to work that he need not
go hungry.
“One day I sat drearily gazing from my window, when my eyes fell upon a
familiar form. I started wildly to my feet, and looked again. I could
not be mistaken, and my heart beat with fresh hope and courage, for I
felt assured that help was near.
“That familiar form was my brother Ralph. I rushed forth, followed him
at a distance, and found out the place where he stopped, resolving to go
to him the day following, and claim his care and protection.
“Alas, for human plans! That night I was taken violently ill, and when
morning came I felt that my earthly race was almost run. I immediately
sent for my brother, and he came. But only to curse me anew, and taunt
me with my shame and degradation, and to swear that he would do nothing
for me. I begged and pleaded that he would take my boy, and care for
him, when I was gone, telling him I felt I could not live a week; but
with a heart like adamant, he turned from me, and, as I thought, left me
to die alone, and my darling to the cold care of strangers.
“But, contrary to all expectations, my disease took a favorable turn,
and I grew better immediately. Still, I was so destitute and friendless
that my heart nearly failed me at the prospect of continued toil and
poverty, with no one to encourage or lend me a helping hand.
“A week passed, and I was able to sit up. One day, with a heart full of
sorrow, and forebodings of ill, as I sat clasping my boy in my arms, as
if I could thus shield him from all harm, I chanced to turn my gaze
without, and saw Ralph coming again toward my dwelling.
“My heart told me at once that his coming was not to benefit me, but
that he thought I was no more, and, with a dim spark of humanity still
flickering in his bosom, he had determined to care for my boy.
“I made a sudden resolution, and, hastening to the woman who had charge
of the house where I lived, and who was a gentle, kind-hearted creature,
I hastily told her my situation, and begged her to tell my brother that
I was buried.
“It was no lie that I urged her to speak, for I intended to effectually
bury and hide myself henceforth from every one whom I had ever known or
ever seen.
“The woman consented to do my bidding, from pity of me and my suffering
child; and with an almost bursting heart I gave my idol the last
embrace, and fled from the house to see him no more.
“My plot worked well. For Ralph Moulton took my child, gave him his own
name, believing I was dead, and has reared him till the present moment.
But, oh! better would it have been had I kept him with me, to suffer
poverty and illness, hunger and thirst, and brought him up as best I
could under the influences of a tender, loving heart, than to have
committed him, so pure and innocent, to the care of one so vile and
heartless, so devoid of principle, and all that makes a man good and
noble. Oh! my boy, forgive your mother, for she erred unconsciously,
believing she deserted you only for your future good.
“I felt you would never suffer hunger any more, that you would receive
an education such as I craved for you, and perhaps in the end so twine
yourself around your uncle’s heart that he would make you the heir of
his vast wealth.
“But I know, my darling, by the hungry look in your eyes, that you have
starved for the want of a little love and tenderness.”
The lovely woman turned her eyes pleadingly upon Ralph for a moment,
then, with a passionate burst of tears bowed her stately head upon his
shoulder.
He clasped her convulsively to him, and in a broken, husky voice
replied:
“Mother—the sweetest name I have ever spoken—it is I who should ask your
forgiveness for not better improving the privileges which, to gain for
me, you doomed yourself to a solitary, loveless life. It is I who should
sue for pardon, that I have allowed my heart to become like a garden
full of noxious weeds, instead of bright blooming flowers, whose
fragrance and beauty would now be grateful to you, and in a measure
repay you for your great sacrifice.”
She would have stopped him with a kiss, but he gently restrained her,
saying, with a sad smile:
“No; let me lay bare my whole heart to you, and show you that I am not
wholly hardened and depraved. I know I have too willingly been
influenced to do evil and crime, but I beg that you will believe me when
I say that I have often felt the stingings and upbraidings of
conscience, and I now humbly repent all the evil I have ever done or
contemplated doing. Say that you forgive me, my sweet mother, and you
too, my father, and I promise you that my life henceforth shall be
devoted to your comfort and happiness, and to the atonement of injuries
which I have done to others.”
“Bless you, my boy!” said Rose Ellerton, raising her face radiant with
happiness; “your words make my heart leap for joy, and I seal your
pardon thus.”
She took his pale grave face between her slender hands, and kissed him
lovingly upon his quivering lips.
Then, with a half-drawn sob, he turned for that other pardon he so much
desired.
It was not denied him!
Alfred Ellerton clasped his son’s hand warmly, and said, with a deeper
feeling:
“I thank Heaven, my son, for this confession, and I believe you are
sincere in your repentance. All our lives, thus far, have nearly proved
a failure, but together we will strive to make the future atone for the
past, and, in trying to do right, yet receive much of the joy and
happiness that for so many years have been denied us. Still,” he added,
gravely, and with an anxious glance at Ralph, “there is one wrong you
have done that demands immediate reparation. It has caused me more
sorrow than all else, and is, I believe, your greatest sin. Are you
willing to atone for it, Ralph? I mean the wrong you have done Miss
Dupont this evening.”
Ralph sprang quickly to his feet, his face crimson with mingled shame,
sorrow, and remorse.
He made no reply to his father’s words, but walking bravely to where
Dora stood, her hand clasped in Robert’s, said manfully, but humbly:
“Miss Dupont, if you do not hate me too much to listen to my words, I
would implore your pardon for my shameful persecution, and for what I
forced you to this evening, together with the suffering I have caused
you. And believe me when I say I gladly yield you up to one who is
nobler in every respect than I. I will not deny,” he continued, while a
look of regret passed over his face, “that you have been very dear to
me, and that I had intended forcing you to recognize the tie which I
compelled you tacitly to submit to to-night, vainly believing that in
time I could teach you to return my affection. Once more I implore you
to forgive me, and allow me the pleasure of saying that you are free;
though the mockery we listened to an hour or so since was in no way
binding, still, it affords me satisfaction to bid you go free.”
Dora’s eyes had flashed indignantly when he came forward and began to
address her, but long before he was done she was sobbing with sympathy
for him; and now, wiping the bright drops from her heavenly eyes, with
something of her own impulsiveness she held out her dainty hand toward
him, and said, sweetly:
“Mr. Moulton—no, let me call you by your right name, and a better
one—Mr. Ellerton, you have my full and free pardon.”
“Thanks!” was all he could utter, and stooping, he kissed the little
hand outstretched to him. He then turned to Robert, and was about to
crave a like pardon from him, but he stopped him, saying heartily, as he
shook his hand:
“No, my boy, don’t say one word. I know all you would ask, and it is
freely granted. I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving the life of my
father. Yes, he has told me all about it,” he said, in answer to Ralph’s
look of inquiry, then added, “and now let us be friends, as well as
cousins, forget the past, and live as persons who are so nearly
connected should live. Now I must go and greet your new-found friends.”
He turned quickly away, and went to speak to his aunt and uncle, to
allow Ralph time to recover himself, for he was entirely overcome at
this unlooked-for cordiality.
Then there was a general handshaking, while good wishes and
congratulations passed blithely from lip to lip between the reunited
friends.