CONCLUSION.
This intelligence was so terrible and so unexpected that for some time
he felt overwhelmed with utter horror. Then a dark suspicion came to
him that this was the work of Leon, who, enraged at his baffled schemes,
had dealt this last blow upon those whom he had already so deeply
wronged. This suspicion roused the utmost fury of Reginald's nature,
and he hurried forth at once to seek his brother.
He found him sauntering up and down in front of the house. Leon had
remained here ever since his interview with Reginald, in accordance with
his promise. As he now saw his brother approach, he started, and looked
at him with an expression of astonishment not unmingled with terror.
Without any preliminaries, Reginald at once assailed him with the most
vehement denunciations, and in a few burning words, fall of abhorrence
and wrath, he accused him of this new piece of villainy.
“You're wrong--you're wrong--you're altogether wrong!” cried Leon,
eagerly. “I have done nothing--I swear I've done nothing! I've never
left the place.
“You've sent word!” cried Reginald, furiously.
“I have not--I swear I haven't!” said Leon. “I haven't written a line
to any one. I've had no communication whatever with a single soul.”
“It's your work, and yours only!” cried Reginald; “and, by Heaven, you
shall suffer for it! You've broken the agreement between us, and now
I'll show you no mercy!”
“I haven't broken it! I swear by all that's most holy!” cried Leon,
earnestly. “I see how it is. This is merely the result of the old
rumors--the old work going on. I swear it is! Besides, what danger can
happen to Miss Dalton? I need only show myself. I'll go there with you
at once. Can I do more than that? When I am seen alive, there is no
more danger for her. Do you think I'd be such an infernal fool as to
work out such a piece of spite, which I would know to be utterly
useless? No. I only want to wind up the whole affair, and get my
freedom. I'll go there with you or without you, and make it all right
so far as she is concerned. There. Can I do any thing more?”
These words mollified Reginald in some degree, since they showed that,
after all, this new trouble might, as Leon said, have arisen from old
machinations, as their natural result, and did not necessarily involve
any new action on Leon's part.
“I'll go,” said Reginald, “and you shall go with me; but if I find that
you have played me false this time, by Heaven, I'll crush you!”
Reginald, accompanied by Leon, hurried off at once to the succor of
Edith, and arrived there on the following day. It was the fifth day of
their imprisonment, but, to Reginald's immense relief, this new
misfortune did not seem to have affected either of them so painfully as
he had feared. For to Edith imprisonment was familiar now, and this
time she had the discovery of Miss Fortescue to console her. Besides,
she had her father to think of and to care for. The kindness of the
authorities had allowed the two to be together as much as possible; and
Edith, in the endeavor to console her father, had forced herself to look
on the brighter side of things, and to hope for the best.
Dalton, too, had borne this arrest with equanimity. After the first
shock was past he thought over all that was most favorable to escape
rather than the gloomier surroundings of a situation like his. For
himself he cared nothing. To be brought once more before a court of law
was desirable rather than otherwise. His arrangements for his own
vindication were all complete, and he knew that the court could only
acquit him with honor. But about Edith he felt an anxiety which was
deeper than he cared to show, for he did not know how the evidence
against her would be received.
The arrival of Reginald, however, drove away every fear. He brought the
missing man himself. All was now explained. The news ran through the
community like wildfire, and public opinion, which had so severely
prejudged Edith, now turned around with a flood of universal sympathy in
her favor. Some formalities had to be undergone, and then she was free.
The circumstances that had brought to light Edith's innocence served
also to make known the innocence, the wrongs, and the sufferings of the
father. The whole story of Dalton was made public through the exertions
of Reginald, and society, which had once condemned him, now sought to
vindicate him. But the work of vindication had to be done elsewhere,
and in a more formal manner. Until then Dalton had to wait; yet this
much of benefit he received from public sympathy, that he was allowed to
go free and live at Dalton Hall until the law should finally decide his
fate.
Long before that decision Sir Lionel passed away from the judgment of
man to answer or his crimes at a higher tribunal. He passed away in his
madness, unconscious of the presence of that wife whom he had doomed to
exile, and who now, his only attendant, sought to soothe the madman's
last moments. But the measures that were taken to vindicate Dalton were
successful. Lady Dudleigh and Reginald could give their evidence in his
favor without the fear of dealing out death to one so near as Sir
Lionel. Death had already come to him, sent by a mightier power, and
Dalton's vindication involved no new anguish. So it was that Frederick
Dalton was at length cleared of that guilt that had so long clung to
him; and if any thing could atone for his past sufferings, it was the
restoration of his name to its ancient honor, the public expression of
sympathy from the court and from the world, and the deep joy of Edith
over such a termination to his sorrows.
But this was a work of time. Before this Reginald and Edith were
married. They lived at Dudleigh Manor, for the associations of Dalton
Hall were too painful, and Edith did not care to make a home in her old
prison-house. To her father, too, the Hall was distasteful as a
residence, and he made his abode with his daughter, who was now the only
one on earth in whom he took any interest. But Dalton Hall was not
untenanted. Lady Dudleigh lived there in the old home of her childhood,
and passed her time in works of charity. She made an effort to reclaim
Leon, and succeeded in keeping him with her for a few weeks; but the
quiet life soon proved intolerable, and he wandered away at length to
other scenes.
Reginald had dealt faithfully and even generously by him. After all his
crimes and villainies, he could not forget that he was his brother, and
he had done all in his power to renew his life for him. He had given
him all the claims which he had collected, and thus had freed him from
debt. He had also given him money enough to enable him to start afresh
in life. But the money was soon gone, and the habits which, Leon had
formed made any change for the better impossible. He wandered away into
his former associations and became a miserable vagabond, constantly
sinking down deep into misery, to be saved for a time by his mother's
assistance, but only to sink once more.
Mention must be made of two others before this story closes.
One of these is Leon's wife. She went away from Dudleigh Manor to
Scotland in search of the clergyman who had married her. She succeeded
in finding him, and in obtaining from him a formal certificate of her
marriage. This, however, was not for the purpose of acquiring any hold
whatever upon Leon, but rather for the sake of her own honor, and also
out of regard for Edith, whom she wished to free from the last shadow of
that evil which her own deceit had thrown upon the innocent girl. After
this she was satisfied. She did not seek Leon again, nor did she ever
again see him. She retired from the world altogether, and joining a
sisterhood of mercy, devoted the remainder of her life to acts of
charity and humanity.
Last of all remains Miss Plympton, with whom this story began, and with
whom it may end. That good lady recovered from the illness into which
she had fallen on account of her anxiety about Edith, and was able to
visit her not long after her release from her last imprisonment. She
had given up her school; and as she had no home, she yielded to Edith's
affectionate entreaties, and found a new home with her, where she passed
the remainder of her days.
THE END.