In pursuance of the plan I decided upon before I commenced this
recital--one of the principal features of which is not to anticipate
events, in order that the interest of the story should not be
weakened--a gap is necessary here, which before the end is reached
will be properly bridged over. All that I deem it requisite to state
at this point is that within two years of the death of Lauretta's
mother Gabriel Carew left Nerac, never again to set foot in the
village. He came to England, bringing with him his wife and one child,
named Mildred, after Lauretta's mother. As you will understand, I have
only lately gathered my materials, and had no acquaintanceship
whatever with Gabriel Carew and his family at the time of his return
to his native country; and it may be as well to state now that there
were sufficient grounds for Carew's abandonment of his design to
settle permanently in Nerac. The place became more than lightly
distasteful to him by reason of his falling into disfavour with the
inhabitants of the village. Some kind of feeling grew silently against
him, which found forcible expression in a general avoidance of his
company. He strove in vain to overcome this strange antipathy, for
which he could not account. Even Father Daniel took sides with his
flock against Carew. What galled him most was that when he challenged
those who were once his friends to state their reasons for withdrawing
their friendship from him, he could elicit no satisfactory replies.
Then befel an event which decided his course of action. Doctor Louis
died. The loss of the good doctor's wife had suddenly aged him; the
break in the happy life weighed him down, and he went to his rest
contentedly, almost joyfully, to rejoin his beloved mate. Within a few
weeks after his burial, Gabriel Carew shook the dust of Nerac from his
feet, and departed from the pretty village with a bitter feeling in
his heart towards the inhabitants. They would have been glad to
demonstrate to Lauretta their affection and sorrow, but she stood by
her husband, whom she devotedly loved, and with a sad and indignant
persistence rejected their advances. Thus were the old ties broken,
and her new life commenced in a foreign land.
Of the doings of Gabriel Carew for some years after his arrival in
England I have but an imperfect record, but that is of no importance,
as it has no immediate bearing upon my story. Sufficient to say that
five years ago he and his wife and Mildred Carew took possession of
Rosemullion, which had been long without a tenant. Great preparations
were made for their taking up their residence in Rosemullion. The
grounds and house were in sad dilapidation, no care having been taken
of them for many years past, and a number of workmen were employed to
set things in order. In an English neighbourhood such doings always
excite curiosity, and when it became known that Gabriel Carew, the
master of the property, was coming to reside amongst us, there was a
fruitful wagging of tongues. I heard a great many things which not
only surprised me, but created within me a lively interest in the
gentleman who would soon be my near neighbour, my house being scarcely
more than half a mile from the little estate of Rosemullion. It was
some time, however, before I made the personal acquaintance of Gabriel
Carew. Before that took place I found myself, vicariously, in
association with him through my son, and your favourite, Reginald. I
can see you in fancy, my dear Max, rubbing your hands and saying, "Ah,
we are coming to the kernel at last!" Wait. You have the nut before
you, but your imagination must be of a miraculous order to enable you
to pronounce upon the exact nature of the fruit when the shell is
removed.
Among our friends and acquaintances is a lady whose name it is not
necessary to mention, who has a pleasant craze for bringing young
people together through the medium of "small and early" dances.
Reginald went to her hospitable house frequently on these occasions.
For my own part, I am not given to these vanities, being, indeed, too
old for them. Old fogeys like myself are in the way of boys and girls
who are called together for an enjoyment which is their special
privilege. Therefore I was content that Reginald should go alone to
this lady's house.
From one of these visits he returned in an unusually excited mood. He
had met and danced with a young lady who, I plainly saw, had taken his
heart captive. I inquired her name. Miss Carew. To be exact, he told
me her Christian name. Miss Mildred Carew. Of Rosemullion? Yes. Was
she alone? No; her mother was with her--a most lovely lady, but of
course not the equal of her daughter in beauty. An only child? Yes.
These were some of the questions put by me and answered by Reginald.
In a very short time he had acquired an amazing amount of information
respecting this young lady. He had seen nothing of her father.
He went again to the house of our hospitable friend, and again met and
danced with Miss Carew, and came away more deeply than ever in love
with her. My affection and my duty caused me to take quiet note of my
son, whose welfare is very dear to me. With a thorough knowledge of
his character, I knew that he was not in the habit of contracting
light fancies. He has a very serious and earnest nature.
For the third time he visited our friend, and for the third time met
Miss Carew. From what passed between us I resolved to see the young
lady and her mother. I made the opportunity by going uninvited to the
house of my kind-hearted friend upon the occasion of her next dance
party. I could take that liberty; we had been friends for twenty
years. I enlightened her confidentially as to my motive for visiting
her, and she received my confidence in the frankest spirit, firing at
me first, however, a gun of a very heavy weight.
"It would be an excellent match," she said.
"What!" I exclaimed. "Has it gone as far as that?"