A NEW REVELATION.
"Who loves a mistress of such quality,
He soon hath found
Affection's ground
Beyond time, place, and all mortality.
To hearts that cannot vary
Absence is Presence, Time doth tarry."
--ANON.
It was some few days after the arrival of Lady Bryn Afon with her
daughter at Glyn Melen, that the chaplain was one morning despatched
on an errand which caused Shanno's heart to beat with strong
excitement, his mission being to invite Jack the boatman to pay a
long-promised visit to his foster-child, and to bring the old man
safely to the farm under his own escort, there to learn from Lady
Bryn Afon's lips the story of her relationship to his humble family,
which had for so many long years sorely puzzled him. The long
journey to the riverside cottage beneath the brow of the famed old
castle was pleasurable enough to the young chaplain, not only for the
beauty of the scenery through which he passed, but because it was his
first visit to the early home of her he loved, and no less dear to
him than to herself on that account. And with scarcely less
eagerness than Primrose herself did he look forward to the meeting
with her beloved foster-father, a man whose name he had heard often
enough during his visits to Caer Caradoc and the villages along the
Gwynnon Vale, as one worthy of all respect and esteem, but whom he
had never yet himself chanced to see.
With great impatience did Primrose await their return together,
delayed awhile by their passing a night on their way to the mountains
at the house of good Master Rhys Prichard of Castell Leon, with whom
honest Jack was pleased enough to renew those old disputations so
often held at his own cottage by the river between himself, Master
Rhys Prichard, and his cousin, Master Rhys of Cwmfelin, upon the
relative merits of the Welsh and English tongues. But at length the
miles of difficult mountain travelling were safely accomplished, and
on the third evening after the chaplain's departure he led the
boatman, trembling with joy and excitement, to the arms of his
foster-child, who awaited him alone below, while her mother in her
chamber above silently sought strength for the strange revelation she
was about to make. Presently the boatman was summoned to her
presence, and Primrose was left alone.
It was so long ere the interview between her mother and her guardian
drew to a close, that the young girl at length ventured to the door,
and knocking softly, begged for admission. Receiving no answer, but
hearing her mother's sobs within, she opened the door boldly, and
stood spellbound on the threshold at the sight of Lady Bryn Afon on
her knees upon the floor, her arms clasped about the old man's neck,
whose tears fell fast upon her bowed head. Neither stirred at her
entrance, until, at the half-terrified cry of "Mother!" which burst
from her lips, Lady Bryn Afon turned, and said in a voice choked with
sobs: "Shanno--my sweet Primrose! Come hither, my child, and say
that you can forgive an erring, sinful woman, even as her own beloved
father has from his heart assured her that he has done! Come back,
my darling, to the arms of this tender guardian of your youth and
helpless infancy, and learn to call him by the loving name of
grandfather! Let him, I pray you, hear you welcome him to this new
title, which he has so long deserved for the fatherly love and care
he has bestowed on you, and let the thought of your sweet dutifulness
these many long years past comfort him for the sins your unhappy
mother has committed against him! Father, she has been to you a
better daughter than I, and I know how truly you have loved her--yet,
I beseech you, suffer me to share but a little of the love you shower
upon her, and I will be content, and rest assured of your
forgiveness!"
"Mother," said Primrose, trembling, "what does it all mean? Are you
then my dear guardian's own daughter?--surely not that long-lost
daughter whom he believed dead so many long years since, and of whom
he has so often spoken to me? This is too wonderful!"
"She is verily that long-lost daughter, sweetheart," said the old
boatman, finding voice at last, and drawing Primrose close to him.
"She is given back to me from the dead, praised be the name of the
Lord; and you, whom I have nursed upon my knee, and worshipped in
your infant beauty and maiden loveliness, you are no little strange
nursling whatever, but indeed my own very flesh and blood! And my
daughter is the Lady of Bryn Afon! Truly the 'ways of the Lord are
wonderful, and his works past finding out!'"
"I can scarce yet believe it is not a dream," said Primrose; "but,
dear dad, it is too great a joy to know that I am indeed your own
grandchild, and that now there is a link between us which, come what
may, can never be broken!"
"Can you truly rejoice, my child," said the old man tremblingly;
"truly, in all the pride of your new-found honour, to know yourself
the grandchild of old Jack the boatman, verily a man of honest, ay,
and of ancient lineage, I trow, yet of humble birth and calling, and
boasting no honour save that of having ever been accounted the
faithful servant of your father's family?"
"I am truly glad, dear grandfather!" she answered bravely, "and proud
to know that I am of so much nearer kin than I could have dreamed
possible to one whose name is so well known and honoured in all the
country-side. But prithee tell me, sweet mother, how this can be
true, an it will not too greatly vex you to speak of it?"
"I have but been waiting to first assure myself of my father's
forgiveness," said Lady Bryn Afon, "e'er telling you this early part
of my history, which I will now in few words relate, having in deep
sorrow confessed my sin, and received his most loving and noble
pardon. You know, doubtless, my daughter, that many of my young,
girlish days were spent at Caer Caradoc, where an old friend of my
mother's was housekeeper to the present Sir Ivor Meredith's father,
and to whose charge my own dear father oft spared me for a time, that
I might enjoy change of air and scene, fearing, in his goodness of
heart, lest my life with him in our lonely cottage by the river were
at times wearisome for one so young and light-hearted as I. There I
met, far more frequently than I e'er confessed, the young heir of
Bryn Afon, for he was very friendly with the sons of the late Sir
Ivor, more especially with him who now bears the title, and he was
wont to spend many hours with them at the castle. And besides this
he spent, upon occasion, some days or weeks at Bryn Afon itself, and,
unknown to my father, we met often by the riverside in the haunts of
our childhood; and so he grew dearer to me, and I to him, than either
of us dreamed at the first. I was young and wilful, and ere I knew
what I was doing had promised to be his wife. His father was then
dead, and there were none to control his wishes, but I knew well that
my father would sternly forbid me to dream of one so far above me in
station; so in our youthful haste, and love that would brook no
denial, we escaped together from Caer Caradoc by means of the secret
passage to Bryn Afon Castle, during the absence of Sir Ivor's family,
and thence to London, where we were married. So I entered upon my
wedded life in disobedience to the best and kindest of fathers, and
upon a life of acts of secrecy and deception, which, begun to deceive
my father, have needs been ever since continued to deceive my husband
and save my child. So do our sins follow us! At the time of our
flight through the secret passage I had no thought of being looked
upon, when my disappearance became known, as a victim in my curiosity
to its dark dangers, and had the full intent ere long to confess to
my father what I had done, and comfort him to the best of my power by
assuring him what great love my husband and I bore to each other, and
what tenderness I received from him; but at the first I had not
courage for my confession, and when, later, my troubles came thick
upon me, and the knowledge of the curse blighted all my hopes of
happiness, I was thankful when by chance I learned that I had long
since been given up as dead without doubt by my supposed untimely
fall into the bottomless well, on the brink of which my bonnet had
unawares fallen, as a witness against me; and I then resolved never
to suffer my father to know of my existence, unless the time should
ever come, as now, when I could bring him comfort and joy by the
knowledge. Now, my sweet Primrose, you know why it was to these
faithful arms I committed you in your innocent babyhood, and you now
know the worst of your mother's sinful past. Stay here awhile, and
cheer the heart of my most dear and long-suffering father, while I
seek Percival Vere, who, as the first to know you to be the Earl of
Bryn Afon's daughter, must not be longer left in darkness as to our
whole story."
* * * * * * *
"Then, Percival," said Lady Bryn Afon, at the close of an interview
which had lasted more than an hour, "this further unfolding of my
tale has no power to change the strong current of your affections?
You, in whose veins runs the proud blood of noble families both of
Wales and England, feel now no secret shrinking from the thought of
taking to your heart a wife whose birth on her mother's side is
lowly, and on her father's, shadowed by a curse which is the bitter
fruit of past shame and disgrace? Think the matter over seriously,
Percival, ere I bid you tell my daughter all that is in your heart,
for, were I to think you could e'er repent, when too late, of your
marriage, and so bring upon her such sorrow as mine, my heart would
break."
"My love for her is such, dear madam," he answered, "that nought in
life, nor even death itself, can take aught from its power. She is
to all eternity my one and only love, and whether wedded to her or no
my heart is hers unalterably. Night after night, in the silent hours
of darkness, I have pondered over the subject of our union, knowing I
dare not tempt your sweet Primrose to share with me that holy estate,
with my full knowledge of the curse and all its consequences, unless
my conscience were fully satisfied in the sight of God that the
measures you have taken to avert those consequences from her had been
blessed by God with entire success. I have too deeply studied the
matter in all its bearings to dare snatch greedily for myself a
happiness which might bring misery to her and to future beings, and
had I not fully satisfied myself, by seeking the counsels of
Rhiwallon, so far more skilled than I in all wisdom and learning,
that your dealings and his with her from her babyhood could not fail
to avert the terrible results never yet averted from her ancestors, I
would have torn my heart asunder ere I would again have ventured into
her sweet presence, perchance to rouse again in her girlish heart
those feelings which during the last fair summer I presumed to think
my own ill-concealed affection had caused to stir in her heart
towards me!"
"I believe you speak truly, Percival," said Lady Bryn Afon; "but,
believe me, you may rest assured on this point, and that I shall ever
bless you for the love _you_--(of all men living the one to whom I
can with fullest love and confidence entrust her)--have in God's good
providence seen fit to shower upon her. That she should one day make
so safe and blessed a marriage as hers with you must needs be, has
been for years past my one wish for her, and my sole hope of undoing
that curse which threatens my husband's unhappy family with entire
ruin. Yet last summer, when I noted the growing affection between
you, I scarce dared hope that, when you knew all, your love could be
strong enough to outlive your knowledge of the truth concerning her,
and my heart was torn asunder with conflicting emotions! Then, after
we had parted, and I had poured my anxieties, as I ever do, into the
sympathising ears of our good physician, and had heard from his own
lips that in his opinion my dream of her union with you might with
all safety and happiness for you both become a reality, with no fear
of ensuing woe--then my fears were laid to rest; and knowing how
deeply your mutual affection (perhaps unconsciously on her part) had
been stirred, I looked forward with joy and hope to your meeting
again with that happy result which, I trow, will scarce be
frustrated. Yet, could I think that you will too late repent the
confession of your love, I conjure you, Percival, to be silent, and
even now to fly from my darling's presence! Heaven forbid that this
hand of mine, which has already wrought such ill, should bring either
of you, my dearly-loved children, to the misery of an unhappy wedded
life!"
"Lay your fears to rest, dear lady," said Percival, "as I, in God's
great love and mercy, have with a pure conscience this some while
since laid mine. I am indeed doubly blessed in thinking, that not
only is the great happiness of which I scarce dare yet dream your
fair daughter can account me worthy, now perchance verily within my
reach, but that also in making her my wife, an she will bestow on me
so great and undeserved a favour, I shall be privileged to see the
fulfilment of my most earnest desire--the removal of the curse from
the House of Bryn Afon."