BROWNIE’S LITTLE CHARGE
Brownie was exceedingly anxious that Lady Ruxley should be informed of
her happiness and safety, and would have hastened at once to Vallingham
Hall to relieve her anxiety; but Adrian insisted that they would be
constantly receiving callers, and after sending their cards abroad as he
had done, it would not do to run away; besides, he was desirous that she
should see more of the great metropolis, and mingle in its gayeties for
a while. But he suggested she should write.
So Brownie wrote her ladyship an affectionate letter, telling her of her
marriage, and that she would come to see her just as soon as possible,
and explain everything. Meanwhile, she requested that she would keep her
secret from the Randals and Coolidges until she saw her.
This duty accomplished, she gave herself up heartily to all the
pleasures which Adrian planned for her.
One day, upon returning from a stroll in Regent’s Park, they had almost
reached Portland Place when their attention was suddenly attracted by a
shrill scream, and then by the distressing cries of a child.
Turning quickly in the direction whence the sound proceeded, Adrian saw
that a woman, who but a moment before had been standing on the river’s
brink, had disappeared from sight, while the child of whom she had had
charge was reaching out its hands toward the river, and screaming at the
top of its lungs.
The young husband and wife hastened to the spot, and saw that the woman
had fallen from the bank, and was lying motionless at the bottom of the
stream.
Whether she had fainted, or what had caused the fall, they could not
imagine, and Adrian hastened to rescue her, while Brownie, taking the
little one from its elegant carriage, tenderly strove to comfort it.
A crowd began to gather around, and Adrian was assisted in bringing his
burden to a safe, dry place; but to all his inquiries as to who she was
no one could give any information.
She was evidently a nurse in some high family, as her cap and apron
denoted, while the child, a little boy of about three years, was clothed
with taste and elegance. He kept crying for “Nannie, Nannie,” at first,
and his little face wore a grieved, distressed look, as he saw her lying
so still upon the ground, but Brownie removed him to a little distance,
and soon succeeded in quieting him with her fond, sweet words.
The woman continued insensible, and as they could gain no clew to her
identity, Adrian, fearing she had been seriously injured in falling,
began to wonder what would be best to do with her.
A policeman now appeared, and advised that she be taken to some
hospital, and deeming this the wisest course to pursue, the young man
gave directions that she be taken to St. George’s, it being the finest
one in the city.
“But what will become of the child?” he asked, in perplexity, as he saw
it in Brownie’s arms.
“Take him to the station-house until called for,” some one said,
heartlessly.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Brownie, with an appealing, terrified look at her
husband; while the child, frightened at being so curiously regarded,
threw his little arms around her neck and hid his face upon her
shoulder.
She clasped him to her with a sudden thrill.
“Let us keep him until his parents come to claim him,” she said, in a
low tone, to her husband.
“But, dearest, it will never do for you to have the care of him,” he
returned, disapprovingly.
“Ah! Adrian, he is such a darling, I should like it. Milly will assist
in the care of him, and, in all probability, his parents will claim him
by to-morrow.”
“That is true,” he said, hesitatingly.
“I know he will be content with me, and that I shall treat him tenderly.
Dear, I cannot let them take him to the station-house,” she pleaded,
earnestly.
Adrian himself said that was not to be thought of for a moment, and
being strongly attracted toward the beautiful boy, it was finally
arranged that it should be as Brownie desired, and they all returned to
the Langham, while the unfortunate nurse was borne away to the hospital.
The little fellow was soon as happy as a king, and, although he talked
of Nannie, seemed perfectly contented when in Brownie’s presence.
She found, upon questioning him, that he was called Eddie, but she tried
in vain to make him repeat his last name. Evidently he had not been
taught it.
The next morning Adrian went early to the hospital, hoping the nurse
would be able to converse with him and give him information regarding
her little charge; but he found her raving in delirium, and the doctors
said she had doubtless been seriously injured about the head in falling,
and they were fearful that the accident would cost her her life.
Only one thing remained to be done now, and that was to advertise the
child in the papers, which Adrian immediately did, and then strove
quietly to await the issue.
Since the little one would occupy her for a few days, Brownie persuaded
Adrian to run down to Vallingham Hall to relieve Lady Ruxley’s suspense,
and consult with her as the best method of securing her jewels, and of
releasing Herbert Randal.
It was Saturday that the accident happened, and on Monday he departed
for West Malling, where he found Lady Ruxley in her usual health, but
feeling very lonely without her companion. She still remained at the
Hall, where she said she should stay until the folks returned from
Paris, and then they might have their grand doings to themselves and
welcome.
She had received Brownie’s note that day before their departure for
Paris, but she had carefully guarded her secret, thoroughly believing in
her, and inwardly triumphing in her good fortune.
“I knew they were humbugs from the beginning,” she said, wrathfully,
when Adrian told her about the jewels; “but,” and she shook her head
sadly, “it’s too bad for Charles to be taken in so.”
“I sympathize with your ladyship,” Adrian returned. “But let us hope
that he may have his eyes opened before it is too late.”
He then related Brownie’s history from beginning to end, and though the
old lady felt some uncomfortable twinges of conscience upon hearing that
she was the grandniece of that same Mehetabel Douglas who came to such
grief in her own house, yet she rejoiced over the young girl’s triumph
and good fortune. She sniffed contemptuously when Adrian spoke of his
grandfather’s opposition to his marriage.
“She has just as good blood in her veins as Royal Dunforth himself, and
when he gets his eyes open he’ll be ashamed of being so crotchety.
Humph!” she went on, with her irrepressible chuckle; “I told Helen she’d
get her pay yet; and I knew that girl was treacherous. What a mongrel
she is to appropriate the poor, abused thing’s jewels and wear them!—and
they were Meta Douglas’s, too! I thought I had seen them before, but I
didn’t say a word, for Helen says I am always poking into other folks’
affairs. And they hid the poor child in that wretched cell, did they?”
“Yes; although I do not see how they dared do it,” Adrian replied.
“Sir Charles shall know of this, or my tongue will be palsied before I
can tell him!” she muttered, angrily, and then demanded: “Who did you
say let her out?”
Adrian really dreaded relating this portion of his story, lest the shock
should be too much for the old lady. He had merely mentioned the fact of
Brownie’s being released by some one upon the other side of the cell,
but now he broke to her as gently as he could the tale of Lady Randal’s
sin in concealing her deformed son.
“Has she dared do this cruel thing?” she whispered hoarsely; then added:
“I had given her credit during these later years for regretting and
repenting of her former wickedness and intrigues, but it seems she is
capable of almost anything He—Herbert, did you say his name is?”
“Yes; that was what he told my wife.”
“Well, he must not remain there another hour—it is too horrible!”
She insisted upon going immediately to the young man, asking Adrian to
accompany her.
Lady Ruxley appeared to know the way perfectly; for, passing through
Isabel’s room, she unbolted the door of the cell, and groped her way to
the opposite side.
As she stepped upon that semi-circular block of stone, she explained the
secret to Adrian, and bidding him follow her, she pressed her foot upon
the bolt and disappeared. As soon as the shaft arose to its place, he
followed immediately, and soon found himself standing by her side, in
the room already described.
The young cripple was sleeping upon a couch, and had not heard them
enter; but as Lady Ruxley stumped toward him with her cane, he started
up, and regarded his strange visitors with amazement.
Lady Ruxley nearly shrieked aloud as she beheld his terrible deformity,
but quickly recovering herself, she moved still nearer to him, and
exclaimed, in her blunt way:
“Well, Herbert Randal, thank the Lord that you are at last born into the
world!”
“Madam, are you—who are you?” he stammered, regarding her with nearly as
much curiosity as she did him.
“I am a withered antediluvian, as you perceive, but the heart within me
is sound yet, and capable of feeling for others’ woes, if not for
others’ faults. I am Lady Ruxley, your mother’s aunt.”
“I have heard of you, and Miss Douglas said you were very kind,” he
said, gently, and regarding her bent form with a pitying eye.
“Did she?” said her ladyship, eagerly, while her thin lips broke into a
pleased smile. “Miss Douglas was a jewel.”
“Miss Douglas was,” repeated the cripple, catching his breath, and a
look of pain crossing his face.
“Yes, was; for she is no longer Miss Douglas, but Mrs. Dredmond, and
this is her husband,” returned Lady Ruxley, introducing Adrian.
The two young men clasped hands, but Herbert Randal searched Adrian’s
face wistfully and eagerly.
And now there followed many questions and explanations, and a long
conference, which resulted in Lady Ruxley deciding that young Randal
should return at once with her to the villa, where he should remain
until the return of the family from Paris, “when there will be a serious
reckoning,” she concluded, with a stern, bitter look.
Herbert demurred at first, but upon being assured by Adrian that it
would be best, he at last consented, upon condition that he could induce
his tutor to be party to the plan.
The tutor was summoned, and although very much disturbed at this
unexpected state of things, he was really glad at heart that for the
future his pupil would know the comforts of life. Lady Ruxley assured
him that his salary should be continued to him during his own and his
sister’s life, for the sake of the kindness which he had shown his
charge during the past.
So, as the matter was to be kept as quiet as possible from the servants,
it was decided they should wait until evening before they made the
change, when it was accomplished without exciting suspicion.
Adrian remained until the next morning, when, bidding them a kind
farewell, and feeling much pleased with the result of his journey, he
returned to London, taking with him Brownie’s trunks, a cordial
invitation from Lady Ruxley to the bride to come and visit her, and also
an elegant piece of Irish point lace, that would have made the eyes of
half the London belles water with envy, as a bridal present.
Lady Ruxley seemed to forget her own aches and pains in ministering to
the comfort of her unfortunate grand-nephew; and she found him a most
entertaining companion, for he had improved his time and was well read
upon almost every subject.
She was eager for the return of Lady Randal from Paris, and yet she was
somewhat anxious as to what the result of this new development would be;
while she could not help feeling a little bit of triumph as she thought
how astonished and somewhat chagrined her amiable niece would be when
she should discover that Mehetabel Douglas would be the Lady of Dunforth
after all.
“And Charles, how will he receive his brother, I wonder?” she often
thought, with some anxiety. “If he is noble and manly, as I hope he will
be, my fortune shall be divided between them; but if he should be unkind
or ungenerous, then Herbert shall have every farthing!”
Upon Adrian’s return to London, his young wife met him with the saddest
face in the world, and threw herself into his arms with a heart-broken
cry.
The beautiful child, whom she had so tenderly taken to her heart in its
desolation, and whom she had begun to love very dearly, was alarmingly
ill—dying, she feared, from what the physician said—with that dread
disease, membraneous croup!
He had been taken very suddenly, almost immediately upon Adrian’s
departure, and, despite their tenderest care, had rapidly grown worse,
until now he was wholly unconscious, and seemed sinking fast.
Adrian was extremely shocked by this distressing intelligence, and
together they returned to Eddie’s bedside.
The doctor was there holding the little pulse and watching the ebbing
life. He shook his head very gravely at Adrian’s look of inquiry, and
one glance into the little pale, distressed face, told more plainly
still that there was no hope.
An hour passed with scarce any change, and still those kind watchers
hovered around his bed.
But suddenly there came to them from the drawing-room sounds of
confusion and eager questioning.
Adrian passes out to inquire the cause, and Brownie hears a few hurried
sentences, then a sharp cry of pain, which is followed by the sudden
rush of garments, and a beautiful woman of about thirty rushes
frantically to the bedside, and bends, sobbing and moaning, over the
dying child.
She is immediately followed by a gentleman a few years older, who with a
groan of agony, seizes the little cold hands and passionately presses
kiss after kiss upon them.
Brownie comprehends at once that at last the parents have found their
missing child.
“It is Sir Edgar Douglas and his wife, who have just returned from a
journey into Wales,” Adrian whispers, drawing his wife a little aside,
and then continued: “They arrived only this morning, and were rendered
nearly frantic at finding the nurse and their boy missing; but almost
immediately they saw my advertisement, and hastened hither at once.”
“How dreadful!” murmured Brownie, weeping with the stricken ones.
Then she hastened to minister to the little one, who seemed now to be
struggling with the mighty foe; while his mother was too much overcome
by her violent grief to be capable of any effort, and the father seemed
like one turned to stone.
Brownie closes the beautiful eyes, smooths the bright curling locks back
from the marble brow, and clasps the tiny hands upon the still breast,
then turns to comfort the bereft mother.
It is a hopeless task, however, for she is borne fainting to another
apartment, whither her husband soon follows her, having first, in reply
to Adrian’s offer of assistance, requested that he would arrange for the
last sad rites.
The mother wept, and would not be comforted; but the father was like a
block of marble, until he looked his last upon his darling’s face and
they bore him from his sight. Then, with one deep, heartrending groan,
he sank lifeless upon the floor, stricken down by a fatal attack of
apoplexy.
It was his heir, his only treasure, and death had ruthlessly snatched
him from his grasp; he had not thought that his peerless boy could die,
so young, so bright, so beautiful, and his own heart-strings were
snapped asunder.
Three days later those who had borne his son away, took him also, and
laid him by his side, while the widow returned to her home desolate.
The nurse was very ill for several weeks, but at length, contrary to all
expectation, she began to recover, and in time returned to her sorrowing
mistress.