With the sad episode which closes our last chapter we would fain let
fall the curtain on this history. Very few words will now suffice to
complete the narrative of those with whom we have so long sojourned. The
discovery which revealed the murder of Mr. Godfrey restored Frank Dalton
to the home and fortune of his family; and although the trying scenes
through which he had passed made deep and dangerous inroads on his
health, youth and hope, and the watchful care of Kate, restored him;
and, after the lapse of some weeks, he was enabled to be about once
more, recalling to the recollection of many the handsome figure and
manly bearing of his father.
For many a year before, Corrig-O'Neal had not seen such a party beneath
its roof, nor had those gloomy old walls echoed to such sounds as now
were heard within them. In addition to Lady Hester, George Onslow, now
a colonel, was the guest of the Daltons. Scarcely arrived in England,
he quitted London at the moment when the tidings of his gallant
achievements had made him the hero of the day, and hurried to see _her_
who, through every change of his fortunes, had been the dearest object
of his heart.
What tender reproaches, what heart-warm confessions, did those old woods
hear, as, side by side, the lovers walked along, revealing the secret
sorrows of the past, and recalling each incident which once had cheered
with hope or shadowed with despair. But it is not in such company we
would play the “eavesdropper,” nor watch for the changeful blushes of
that soft cheek where tears of joy and grief are mingled. Neither would
we care to accompany Grounsell, as with deeds and bonds, codicils and
conveyances, he actually hunted poor Frank from place to place, urgently
impressing on him the necessity for those “business habits,” the
sad neglect of which had been the ruin of all the Daltons. As little
inducement is there to follow Lady Hester, whose restless activity
was interfering with every one and everything, taking the most lively
Interest in the property the very moment it ceased to be her own, and
devoted to all the charities which no longer could lay claim to being
duties.
Pleasanter, perhaps, would it be to follow the old Count, as he
sauntered alone for hours, trying to trace out in the long-forgotten
scenes the stories of his boyhood. What pleasant reveries they
were!--what glorious compensations for all the tumultuous passages of an
eventful life! And so he felt them! And so he recognized with grateful
heart the happy destiny which had befallen him, to close his days where
he had begun them--in the midst of his own--loving and beloved.
And yet with such scenes and emotions we must not dally. Story-tellers,
like Mother Carey's chickens, have no sympathies with sunny skies and
soft airs,--their province is amidst the hurricane and the storm. In
truth, too, it is the very essence of tranquil enjoyment that it must be
left to the imagination of each to conceive.
But one care weighed on all, and that was the absence of poor Nelly.
Why was she not amongst them, to see their happiness, and heighten its
enjoyment by all the benevolence of her kindly nature? It was true
they were relieved of all anxiety regarding her by a letter which had
followed them from Vienna, and which told how she had arrived in that
city a few days after they had left it.
“I stood,” she said, “looking at the great palace where they
told me Count Stephen lived, and could not bring myself to
think it was not a dream that such as _I_ should have
business there!
“I sat down on the steps of a church in front of it, and
gazed for hours long at the great door through which you
must have passed so often, and the windows which doubtless
you stood at--perhaps thinking of poor Nelly! At last came
Hanserl to say that he had obtained leave to see the palace;
and oh, how my heart beat at the words,--for there was pride
as well as humiliation in the thought,--and so we went in,
and, crossing the great court, ascended the wide staircase.
How beautiful it all was, those marble statues,--the rich
frescos of the ceilings,--the gorgeous lamps, all emblazoned
with armorial emblems; and yet I thought less of these than
the polished steps which your feet had trodden, and which I
could have kissed for your sake.
“I had not imagined so much magnificence. You will smile,
perhaps, at my simplicity, but so did not that kind old
soldier with the wooden leg, who took such pains to show us
everything. He was evidently pleased to witness our admiring
wonder, and actually laughed at Hanserl's enthusiasm for all
those bright scimitars and shields of Turkish make, the
horse-tailed banners, and other emblems of Austrian victory;
while I stole away silently into a little chamber all hung
with blue damask, over the mantelpiece of which was a
portrait of our own dear Frank. How I felt that the room was
yours, Kate,--how my heart told me each object you had
touched,--and how they all became to my delighted senses
like precious relics, revealing stores of affection laid up
in your bosom, and showing a wealth of love I was not
conscious of till then. Oh, no, dearest sister, I never
knew, till then, how things without life themselves can be
the links between beating hearts! I looked everywhere for a
portrait of yourself, and it was only by asking the old
corporal that I succeeded in finding it. 'The Gräfin's
picture is in the Field-Marshal's own room,' said he, with
pride, and led the way towards it. Oh, Kate, how beautiful--
nay, it is Nelly, your own stern Nelly, who never flattered
you herself nor could bear others to do so--it is Nelly, the
same Nelly, unchanged, save in being less trustful, less
impulsive, less forgiving than you knew her, and _she_ tells
you that at sight of such loveliness she stood wonderstruck
and fascinated. Had you been really then before me, such as
the picture represented, I had not dared to approach you;
there was that of nobility and grandeur that had appalled my
poor peasant heart, unused to the glitter of diamonds and
the queenly air of high-born beauty; but, as I gazed on the
likeness, long and steadily, this expression faded away,
and, as though the lineaments were changing, I thought the
eyes grew softer; they seemed to moisten, the lips trembled,
the bosom heaved and fell, and it was you-----you! as I
had pressed you to my heart a thousand times--my own! my
own! I know not what foolish words I may have uttered, nor
to what excess my rapture carried me, but I was weeping
bitterly as they led me away,--ay, bitterly, Kate; for such
ecstasy as I felt finds its true vent in sorrow! But now I
am happy once more,--happy that I have seen you and dear
Frank,--happy that each of us in life has trodden the path
that best became him! and so I came away, with many a
lingering look, and many a backward glance, at what I was
never to see again.
“Here, in my mountain home, once more I can sit, alone,
and think of you for days. You wander through all my
thoughts, the characters of endless stories, in every
imaginable vicissitude, and with every change of fortune;
but throughout all, Kate--good and beautiful--truthful too,
as you ever were. There, my tears have blotted out what I
tried to say, nor dare I trust myself with more. My school
children are already coming through the vineyard; I hear
their song,--it was your own long ago:----
'Da sind die Täge lang gennch, Da sind die Nachte milde.'
“Good-bye, good-bye, my sister--my dear sister.
“N. D. Meran.”
“Oh, let us hasten thither at once!” cried Kate, in rapture. “Oh, dear
uncle, let us away to Meran.”
“Not till after Tuesday, Kate,” whispered George, passionately; and the
words covered her cheeks with blushes as she heard them.
The reader knows now all that we care to tell him. Time was when
story-tellers wound up with a kind wish that, “if they were not happy,
that you and I may be.” Nor am I quite certain that we are wiser in our
vocation than when those words were in vogue.
We are not vain enough to suppose that we have inspired an interest for
any of those characters who have supported the minor parts of our drama.
Should such good fortune have happily attended us, let us say, once for
all, that Messrs. Haggerstone, Jekyl, and Purvis yet survive; that the
Ricketts family are in excellent health, autograph gathering and duke
courting, poetizing and painting, and pilfering, with all the ardor of
youth, untouched by years and unrestrained by conscience. Lady Hester,
too, is again living abroad, and, after trying three new changes
of religion, is in treaty with a Heidelberg professor for a
“spick-and-span” new faith, which will transcend everything hitherto
known, and make even Mormonism ashamed of itself.
As for Prince Midchekoff, he and my Lady Norwood are the delight of
a foreign city which shall be nameless, and their receptions nightly
crowded by all the fashionable celebrities and distinguished visitors of
that favored region.
THE END.