It was night when they got to Heath Farm.

Mrs. Martin and the good curate were there to welcome Rushmere back to his old home.

With the a.s.sistance of Polly and Mrs. Sly, who had been at work all the day, Mrs. Martin had succeeded in restoring the house to its original order, the absence of which, during the misrule of Mrs. Gilbert's brief reign, had been such an eye-sore to the st.u.r.dy yeoman. He was perfectly astonished, and no less gratified, to find everything in its accustomed place.

A bright fire was roaring up the huge chimney, as in the winter nights long pa.s.sed away. A comfortable hot supper was smoking on the oak table, which was covered with a spotless cloth of Dorothy's own spinning. His easy chair in its own place, at the head of the hospitable board, fronting the portrait of his venerated ancestor, which had been cleaned from dust and fly spots, by Mrs. Martin's own hands.

The grand old soldier of the covenant looked down from his lofty height, and, by the glow of the genial fire, seemed to smile benignantly on his care-worn descendant's sorrowful face.

The old yeoman fixed his eyes long and lovingly on the time-honoured picture, then, stretching his large hands to the cheerful blaze, muttered to himself,--"The last. Am I to be the last o' his race that will leave the old place with an untarnished name? Oh, Gilbert! oh, my son! I had expected better things o' thee."

The cheerful conversation of the good curate and his wife, and the caresses of Dorothy, succeeded at last in winning Lawrence Rushmere from his melancholy, and something of his former honest hearty expression beamed forth from his clear blue eyes. He joined earnestly in Henry Martin's beautiful evening prayer, which he declared had done him a world of good, and refreshed his weary spirit. When Dorothy lighted him up to bed, he whispered in her ear at parting, "I thought this morning, Dorothy, that a' never could feel happy or comfortable agen."

It had been previously arranged by her friends that Dorothy was to remain at the Farm, as mistress of the establishment, until after Gerard's return, and do all she could to make her foster-father forget his past sorrows and present desolate position. Though such a result could hardly be expected at his age, she accomplished more than she had antic.i.p.ated.

She read to him the newspapers, sang to him the old ballads he loved so well, in her clear dulcet voice, and talked to him cheerfully of his future prospects,--of the pleasant days yet in store for him, if he would resolutely abandon vain regrets, and trust in the goodness and mercy of a loving G.o.d.

Several days glided tranquilly away before she received a letter from Gerard, which informed her that the funeral procession would reach Hadstone at noon on the following day, when the burial of the young viscount would take place, Lord Wilton and himself being chief mourners, and Mr. Martin reading the service for the dead. He told her that he had found the Earl in better health and spirits than he expected. That his son had died in such a happy frame of mind, that it had done more to establish his belief in the great truths of the Christian religion, than a thousand homilies.

We will pa.s.s over the funeral, with all its black and melancholy details, which seem to have been invented by our progenitors to add unnecessary horror to death. The pagan rites of Chinese idolaters have a far more spiritual meaning than our dismal funereal processions. The mourners wear robes of spotless white--young children strew beautiful flowers along the path to the grave, and accompany the dead to their peaceful rest with music and song, rejoicing in the birth of the spirit to a better world.

The day after the funeral, Gerard Fitzmorris came in Lord Wilton's carriage to bring Dorothy up to Heath Hall, as the Earl was impatient to see her.

On arriving at the stately mansion, they were immediately ushered into the n.o.ble library that had haunted Dorothy's dreams, since the day she first met her t.i.tled father.

The Earl was standing, with folded arms, before the portrait of his beautiful mother, the resemblance between her and Dorothy having been rendered yet more striking by the air of refinement that education, and the society of superior minds, had given to the latter.

At the sound of her light steps, the Earl held out his arms. Dorothy sank upon his breast, only uttering the simple word, "Father!"

"My child, my beloved child!"

For a long while he held her where nature had placed her, next his heart, and they mingled their tears together. Gerard walked to the window not less affected by their emotion.

The Earl at length mastered his feelings, and, placing Dorothy on a sofa, he called Gerard to him, and taking a seat between them, held firmly a hand of each.

"My dear children," he said, in a voice that still trembled with emotion, "the time for an explanation, of what must seem to you a strange and needless mystery, has arrived; and while I reveal my past sins and folly, I beg your earnest attention and forgiveness.

"You, Dorothy Chance, are my child, born in lawful wedlock, the only fruit of my marriage with Alice Knight, the beautiful and unfortunate young _protegee_ of my mother, Lady Dorothy Granville.

"You both know that I was a younger son. My eldest brother, Sir Thomas, being a strong healthy young man, I never entertained the least expectation of being called to fill his place. I was proud and poor, depending solely for my future position on my mother's jointure at her death, and my chance of rising in the army.

"I was always haunted by a terrible dread of poverty, not that I loved money for its own sake, for I was reckless in the extravagant expenditure of my limited means, but I valued it for the power and _prestige_ that it always confers upon its fortunate possessors. To be esteemed as a man of fortune by the world, was at that time the height of my ambition, I was not aware of the little satisfaction that mere wealth, unconnected with better things, confers.

"My grandfather, the late earl, had early singled me out as his future heir. I was his G.o.dson, and had been called after him, Edward Granville. He did not like my eldest brother, who was an honest, generous fellow, frank and independent to a fault, the very beau ideal of a soldier and a gentleman. He never would condescend to flatter the avaricious old man for the sake of his money.

"My grandfather had a high veneration for rank, a feeling which my dear mother shared with him in common; both had an unmitigated horror of a mesalliance. This terror of mingling their pure old Norman blood with any one of inferior degree took a strong possession of my own mind, which was greatly strengthened by the often reiterated threat of the proud old aristocrat, that if I married beneath my rank, I should never possess a shilling of his vast wealth.

"This great fortune he inherited from an uncle, who for many years had been governor of India, and died childless. I must confess that I was dreadfully jealous of the infant sons of his youngest daughter, by a second marriage. Not so much of you, Gerard, who, from an infant, shewed a proud and independent spirit; you were a st.u.r.dy democrat from your very cradle, and fearlessly urged the rights of man to the old earl, and laughed at his absurd prejudices, as unworthy and truly ign.o.ble.

"I entered hotly into all the vices and follies of a young man of fashion. The Earl forgave all these peccadilloes, paid my gambling debts, and excused every fault, so long as I flattered his weakness, and held his opinions. My regiment was ordered to America, and I saw some hot service, and soon acquired rank and position in the army. On my return to England, the Earl used his great influence to get me into Parliament. His wealth overcame all opposition, and I made no insignificant figure in the house, and was considered a rising young man of great promise.

"It was during this period, the brightest and best in my life, as far as my worldly interests were concerned, that I married, with my grandfather's consent, the Lady Lucia Montressor, who, though an earl's daughter, was one of a large family of girls, who had no claims to wealth, but were handsome, accomplished women, looking out for rich and advantageous settlements. As the reputed favourite of the rich Earl Wilton, and considered by the public a man of talent, mine was considered a very eligible position.

"I was really attached to my young wife, and sincerely grieved when she died in her beautiful girlhood, leaving me the father of a fine boy, only a few hours old.

"My dear mother was much interested in my bereavement, and took home my motherless infant, while I went abroad on a secret mission for the Government. It was during my absence that lasted over two years, that she saw the neglected grand-daughter of a woman by the name of Knight, who kept a shop furnished with expensive foreign silks and laces, and much frequented by ladies of rank in the town of s...o...b...

"Struck with the extraordinary beauty of the girl, who was in her fifteenth year, she took her under her own protection, to be nursery governess to my little Edward, and wait exclusively upon her person.

"When I returned to Heath Hall, I found this incomparable girl, high in favour with Lady Dorothy, whom she accompanied with the child, in all her walks and drives. In this way we were often thrown together, when I found the charms of her mind equal to the graces of her person. I fell madly in love with her, and it was only then that I realised the truth that I had not loved before. My frantic pa.s.sion absorbed my whole being.

Obliged to be wary, I could make no outward demonstration of my admiration for my beautiful Alice, for fear of alarming the jealousy of my mother, which restraint served only to increase the vehemence of my attachment. To my infinite joy, I discovered that it was mutual.

"The fear of losing my grandfather's patronage and with it his fortune, for a long while presented, as I supposed, an inseparable barrier to my making her my wife. To my grief and shame be it spoken, if I could have obtained her on less honourable terms, I should not have hesitated in adopting such an infamous course, but I found the innocent girl as virtuous as she was fair.

"Then the thought struck me of marrying her privately and enjoining upon her the strictest secresy, until after the death of my rich relative should leave me at liberty, to make a public acknowledgment that she was my lawful wife. To this arrangement, Alice readily consented. An opportunity was not long in presenting itself.

"Lady Dorothy spent a few weeks every summer at Bath. On this occasion I went with her; and Alice, as a matter of course, accompanied us with my child, of whom she was pa.s.sionately fond, and I believe the little fellow loved her with as much devotion as he did his father.

"There was a small retired old church, which, though belonging to the parish in which we lodged, was never frequented by aristocratic worshippers; my aunt having engaged seats in one situated in a more fashionable quarter of the town, where a celebrated preacher drew together large congregations.

"In the little church of St. Mary's, Alice and I were married by banns, and the old superannuated inc.u.mbent delivered our names to his small flock in such mumbling tones, that they were unrecognised among a long string of unknown and unhonoured ones. Early one morning after the third publication of the said banns we were united by the old clergyman, whom I bribed pretty highly to keep our secret.

"And we were happy, blessed beyond measure in our boundless love. If she had been dear to me before, she was doubly so now; if ever a man worshipped a woman, I did her. Our stolen meetings used to take place in a lonely unfrequented opening in the park, beneath the shade of a large oak tree. There we were once nearly surprised by poor Henry Martin, who had been brought up with Alice, and still entertained for her a violent pa.s.sion.

"Our dream of happiness vanished only too soon. My mother had gone to make a visit to the seat of a n.o.bleman, about thirty miles distant, and could not return till next day, when I received a sudden notice from Government that my services were required in a most important mission to the court of Russia, and that I must leave for London without a moment's delay.

"My uncle had been very active in obtaining for me this appointment, which, if well conducted, might lead to the governorship of some important colony among the British possessions. I dared not hesitate in accepting a post from which such great future results were to be expected. Even for her sake it behoved me to go.

"But how could I leave Heath Hall without one last embrace, one last farewell to the beloved?

"I got this appointment by the evening mail, and had to appear in London by ten o'clock the next morning, receive my dispatches, and sail immediately for St. Petersburgh, where it is probable that I might be detained for some months. I was, however, determined, if possible, to see her before I went, and rode a n.o.ble horse to death to obtain that object.

"When I arrived at ---- Hall, it was long past midnight, the family had retired to rest, and the idea of obtaining an interview with my wife was utterly preposterous. I had nothing for it but to return to the London road, which skirted the park, and wait for the coming up of the night mail, my impatience having out-ridden the coach.

"I was so dreadfully fatigued with my previous ride, that I had scarcely taken my seat before I fell asleep, and did not awake until the rumbling of the wheels upon the stones told me that I was in London.

"Though dreadfully pressed for time, I wrote a brief letter to Alice, explaining the reason of my absence, and directing her to write to me through my agent in town. In a postscript I charged her most solemnly to keep our secret if she valued my peace and happiness. She had hidden from me the important fact of her pregnancy.

"My poor darling kept our secret only too well. It was during that visit to ---- Hall that some prying domestic discovered her situation, which was whispered to other members of the household, till it reached my mother's ears.

"I can well imagine Lady Dorothy's grief and indignation. A woman of stern morality, she was not very likely to forgive a dependent to whom she had been a sincere friend. Calling Alice into her presence, she taxed her with her crime, and demanded of her to name the father of the child. This the poor girl steadily refusing to do, my mother reproached her with ingrat.i.tude, and dismissed her from her service before she returned to Heath Hall.

"I can well imagine the despair of the dear young wife when she found, upon reaching s...o...b.., that I had left the country; no one could tell whither, without letting her know the cause of my seeming desertion. She never could have received my letter, though I paid a private messenger highly to deliver it into her own hand.

"In this emergency she applied to her grandmother for protection, who, at first, ignorant of her cause for leaving Lady Dorothy, received her into the house. I have no doubt that had she taken the wise course of making a confidant of this wicked old woman, her pride and avarice would have been so highly gratified, that she would have given her a home without paying any regard to the disgrace attached to her name.

"The discovery of her situation exasperated the old woman to fury. She did not even ask for an explanation, but thrust her from her doors with cruel words and coa.r.s.e usage.

"Thus far, I was informed by a man who waited in the shop, who told me that he was so much affected by the distressed looks of the affrighted girl, that it moved him to tears. After the shop was closed, he sought her through the town, but no one had seen or could give him any account of her retreat.