"You see," whispered Miss Macspleuchan, "what he's thinking of. He dined with those people, you know." Lady Cecilia nodded in silence. Presently his Lordship resumed--

"_Account closed!_--Call on Mr. Gammon--Is Mr. Gammon at home?"----

The current of his recollections had now brought him to the point of danger; and after pausing for a moment, a troubled expression came over his face--he was evidently realizing the commencement of the terrible scene in Mr. Gammon's room--then he seemed to have lost the train of his thoughts for a while, as his features slowly resumed their previous placidity; but the troubled aspect presently returned: his lips were suddenly compressed, and his brow corrugated, as if with the emotion of anger or indignation.

"Monstrous! _Two thousand pounds?_" He spoke these words in a much stronger voice than those preceding.

"Oh, dear!--I should have thought his Lordship had lost much more than _that_," whispered Miss Macspleuchan, in a low tone.

"Insist!--t.i.tmouse--t.i.tmouse"--his lips slightly quivered, and he paused for a while. "Shocking! What _will_ she"----an expression of agony came over his face.

"Poor papa! He's evidently heard it all!" whispered Lady Cecilia, faintly.

"Hush!" exclaimed Miss Macspleuchan, raising her finger to her lips--adding presently, "if he goes on in this way, I shall go and bring in Dr. Whittington."

"Cecilia!--Cecilia!"--continued the earl; and suddenly opening his eyes, gazed forward, and then on each side, with a dull confused stare. Then he closed them, muttering--"I certainly thought Mr. Gammon was here!"

Shortly afterwards he opened them again; and his head being inclined towards the side where Lady Cecilia was sitting, they fell upon, and seemed to be arrested by her countenance. After gazing at her for some moments very, very sorrowfully, he again closed his eyes, murmuring--"Poor Cecilia!"

"I really think, my dear, you 'd better leave the room," faltered Miss Macspleuchan; imagining, from the state of her own feelings, that those of Lady Cecilia would be overpowering her--for nothing could be more soul-touching than the tone in which the earl had last spoken.

"No; he's asleep again," replied Lady Cecilia, calmly,--and for a quarter of an hour all was again silent. Then the earl sighed; and opening his eyes, looked full at Lady Cecilia, and with a more natural expression.

"Kiss me, Cecilia," said he, gently; and raising both his arms a little, while she leaned forward and kissed his forehead, he very feebly placed them round her, but they almost immediately sank on the bed again, as if he had not strength to keep them extended.

"We will live together, Cecilia, again," murmured the earl.

"Dear papa, don't distress yourself; if you do, I really must go away from you."

"No, no; you must not, Cecilia," murmured the earl, sadly and faintly, and shaking his head.

"Have you seen him to-day?" he presently asked with a little more energy, as if he were becoming more and more thoroughly awake, and aware of his position; and there was a marked difference in the expression of his eye--partly perplexed, partly alarmed.

"No, papa--I left the moment it happened, and came here; and have been here ever since. Do, dear papa, be calm!" added Lady Cecilia, with perfect composure.

"There!--I am gone blind _again_," exclaimed the earl, suddenly, and raised his trembling hands to his eyes.

"_So you knew it all?_" said he, presently, tremulously removing his hands, and looking up, as if the momentary obscuration of his sight had ceased.

"Oh yes, papa, of course! How could I help it? Try to go to sleep again, dear papa." There was a faint dash of petulance in her manner.

They were at terrible cross purposes.

His eye remained fixed steadily on that of his daughter. "Is it not horrible, Cecilia?" said he, with a shudder.

"Dear papa, I don't know what you mean," replied Cecilia, quite startled by the tone of his voice, and the look of his eye. There was nothing wild or unnatural about it. The eye seemed that of a man in his full senses, but horrified by some frightful recollection or other.

"I thought it would have killed her," he muttered, closing his eyes, while a faint flush came over his face, but that of Lady Cecilia turned deadly pale.

"Don't speak again, dear," whispered Miss Macspleuchan, herself a little startled by the earl's manner--"he's wandering--he'll go to sleep presently."

"Yes, in my grave, madam," replied the earl, solemnly, in a hollow tone--at the same time turning towards Miss Macspleuchan an eye which suddenly blanched her face--"but even there I shall not _forget_!" She gazed at him in silence, and apprehensively, trembling from head to foot.

There ensued a pause of a minute or two.

"Oh, Cecilia!" said the earl, presently, shaking his head, and looking at her with the same terrible expression which had so startled her before--"that I had first followed you to your grave!"

"My dear papa, you are only dreaming!"

"No, I am not. Oh! how can _you_, Cecilia, be so calm here, when you know that you have married a"----

Lady Cecilia glanced hurriedly at Miss Macspleuchan, who, having risen a little from her chair, was leaning forward in an agitated manner, and straining her ear to catch every word--

"What are you talking about, papa?" gasped Lady Cecilia, while her face became of a deadly whiteness.

"Why, I thought you knew it all," said the earl, sustained and stimulated by the intensity of his feelings--"that this t.i.tmouse--is--Mr. Gammon has acknowledged all--an infamous impostor--an illegitimate"----

Miss Macspleuchan, with a faint shriek, rang the bell at the bed-head violently; but before she or any one else could reach her, Lady Cecilia had fallen heavily on the floor, where she lay unconsciously, her maid falling down over her as she rushed into the room, alarmed by the sudden and violent ringing of the bell. All was confusion and horror. Lady Cecilia was instantly carried out insensible; the earl was found to have been seized with a second fit of apoplexy. Dr. Bailey was quickly in attendance, followed soon after by an eminent accoucheur, whom it had been found necessary to send for, Lady Cecilia's illness having a.s.sumed the most alarming character conceivable. When Miss Macspleuchan had in some measure recovered from her distraction, she despatched a servant to implore the instant attendance of the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Tantallan, unable to bear the overwhelming horror occasioned to her by the statement of the Earl of Dreddlington; and which, whether so astounding and frightful a statement was founded in fact or not, and only a delusion of the earl's, was likely to have given the unfortunate Lady Cecilia her death-blow.

Both the duke and d.u.c.h.ess--the nearest relatives of the earl then in London (the duke being his brother-in-law)--were, within half an hour, at Lord Dreddlington's and made acquainted with the fearful occasion of what had happened. The duke and d.u.c.h.ess were quite as proud and haughty people as Lord Dreddlington; but the duke was a _little_--and only a little--the earl's superior in point of understanding. When first told of the earl's disclosure, he was told as if it were an ascertained fact; and his horror knew no bounds. But when he came to inquire into the matter, and found that it rested on no other foundation than the distempered wanderings of a man whose brain was at the time laboring under the effects of an apoplectic seizure, he began to feel a great relief; especially when Miss Macspleuchan could mention no single circ.u.mstance corroboratory of so amazing and frightful a representation.

At her suggestion, the duke, unable to render any personal service to the earl, who was in the hands of the physicians, hurried home again, and sent off a special messenger to Mr. Gammon, whose address Miss Macspleuchan had given him, with the following note:--

"The Duke of Tantallan presents his compliments to Mr. Gammon, and most earnestly begs that he will, without a moment's delay, favor the duke with a call in Portman Square, on business of the last importance.

"Portman Square, Wednesday Evening, 9 o'clock."

A huge servant of the duke's--with powdered hair, silver epaulettes, dark crimson coat, and white breeches, having altogether a most splendid appearance--created something like a sensation in the immediate neighborhood of Thavies' Inn, by inquiring, with a very impatient and excited air, for "Thavies' Inn," and a "gentleman of the name of _Gammon_" who was very naturally supposed to be honored by some special and direct communication from the king, or at least some member of the royal family. Gammon himself, who was in the act of opening his door to go out and make his promised call of inquiry in Grosvenor Square--was fl.u.s.tered for a moment, on finding himself stepping into the arms of such an imposing personage; who said, as he gave him the letter, on finding him to be Mr. Gammon--"From the Duke of Tantallan, sir. His Grace, I believe, expects you immediately, sir."

Mr. Gammon hastily opened the letter, and having glanced at the contents--"Give my compliments to his Grace, and say I will attend him immediately," said he. The man withdrew, and Gammon returned into his chamber, and sat for a few moments in the darkness--he having just before put out his lamp. He burst into a cold sweat--"What's in the wind now!" said he to himself. "Ah, why did I not ask the fellow?"--and starting from his seat, he rushed down-stairs, and succeeded in calling back the duke's servant just as he was turning out of the inn--"Do you happen to have been into Grosvenor Square to-day?--And do you know how the Earl of Dreddlington is?" inquired Gammon, anxiously.

"Yes, sir; his Lordship, and the Lady Cecilia t.i.tmouse, are both dangerously ill. I believe his Lordship, sir, has had a stroke--they say it's the second he's had to-day--and her Ladyship is taken in labor, and is in a shocking bad way, sir. The duke and d.u.c.h.ess were sent for in a dreadful hurry about an hour ago."

"Dear! I'm sorry to hear it! Thank you," replied Gammon, hastily turning away a face which he felt must have gone of a ghastly paleness.

"It may be only to inquire about the Artificial Rain Company"--said Gammon to himself, as, having procured a light, he poured himself out a large gla.s.sful of brandy, and drank it off, to overcome a little sense of faintness which he felt coming rapidly over him. "The duke is a shareholder, I think. Not at all unlikely!--And as for Lady Cecilia's illness--nothing so extraordinary about it--when one considers her situation--and the shock occasioned by the earl's sudden and alarming illness. But I must take a decided course, one way or another, with the duke!--Suppose the earl has disclosed the affair to Lady Cecilia--and it has got to the duke's ears?--Good heavens! how is one to deal with it?

Suppose I were to affect total ignorance about the matter--and swear that it is altogether a delusion on the part of the earl?--That would be rather a bold stroke, too!--Suppose the earl to _die_ of this bout--ah!

then there 's an end of the thing, and all's well, provided I can manage t.i.tmouse!--A second fit of apoplexy within twelve hours--that looks well--humph!--If the earl _have_ mentioned the affair--and distinctly and intelligibly--how far has he gone?--Did he name the rent-charge?--Ah!--well, and suppose he did? What's easier than also to deny _that_ altogether? But suppose t.i.tmouse should be tampered with, and pressed about the business? Perdition!--all is lost!--Yet they would hardly like to defy me, and trumpet the thing abroad!--Then there's the other course--to own that I am in possession of the fatal secret--that I became so only recently; avow the reason of my taking the rent-charge; and insist upon retaining it, as the condition of my secrecy? That also is a bold stroke: both are bold!--Yet one of them I must choose!--Then, suppose the earl to recover: he will never be the same man he was--that I find is always the case--his mind, such as it is, will go nearly altogether!--But if he recover only a glimmering even of sense--egad! 't will require a little nerve, too, to deny the thing to his face, and swear that the whole thing is the delusion of a brain disordered by previous fright!--And suppose Lady Cecilia dies?--and leaves no issue?--and then Lord Dreddlington follows her--by Heaven, this hideous little devil _becomes Lord Drelincourt at once_!!"

This was the way in which Mr. Gammon turned the thing over in his disturbed mind, as he walked rapidly towards Portman Square; and by the time that he had reached the duke's house, he had finally determined on the course he should pursue. Though his face was rather pale, he was perfectly self-possessed and firm, at the moment of his being shown into the library, where the duke was walking about, impatient for his arrival.

"Gracious G.o.d, sir!"--commenced the duke, in a low tone, with much agitation of manner, the moment that the servant had closed the door behind him--"what is all this horrible news we hear about Mr. t.i.tmouse?"

"_Horrible_ news--about Mr. t.i.tmouse?" echoed Gammon, amazedly--"pardon me--I don't understand your Grace! If you allude to the two _executions_, which I'm sorry to hear"----

"Pho, sir! you are trifling! Believe me, this is a very awful moment to all persons involved in what has taken place!" replied the duke, his voice quivering with emotion.

"Your Grace will excuse me, but I _really_ cannot comprehend you!"----

"You soon shall, sir! I tell you, it may be a matter of infinite moment to yourself personally, Mr. Gammon!"