The World Before Them Volume Iii Part 16

This must suffice you both till time has cicatrized the wound. The marriage of my daughter, Dorothy, with the last male representative of our ancient house, cannot fail to be regarded by me with entire satisfaction. I will explain everything when we meet."

Gerard folded the Earl's letter and sat for some minutes in deep thought. Most men in his position would have felt more joy than sorrow for the death of a relative they had scarcely known, which made them heir to a t.i.tle and vast wealth. Gerard Fitzmorris cared very little for either distinction. He had for some time past felt a deep and growing interest in Lord Wilton, and he sympathised with him most sincerely in the loss of a n.o.ble and deserving son.

He was much struck by the decided manner in which he had avowed, without entering into the particulars of the case, that Dorothy Chance was his daughter. If legitimately he would have no claim to the earldom, which came through a Granville, and would only be ent.i.tled to the baronetcy held by his descent from Sir Thomas Fitzmorris, their mutual grandfather. Dorothy would be Countess of Wilton in her own right.

He could not bring himself to believe, if this were the case, that the Earl would have suffered her to remain so long ignorant of her just position.

Time would explain all, but he could not fathom the mystery. He instantly complied with the Earl's request to meet him in London.

Before he left Hadstone, Dorothy begged, as a great favour, that she might accompany him on his journey as far as ---- to take Mr. Rushmere out of gaol, and bring him back to Heath Farm.

"It would be better for me, Gerard, to break to him the elopement of his son, and if he will return with me, to stay with him at the old place, till you come back."

"Just like my own Dorothy," he cried, pressing her to his heart. "Go like a good angel, as you are, and my blessing go with you."

During their journey, Gerard gave his betrothed the Earl's letter to read, and watched her countenance during the perusal. There was no other pa.s.senger inside the coach but themselves. They could talk to each other without reserve. He saw her start, and her cheeks crimson, when she came to the paragraph in which his lords.h.i.+p spoke of her as his daughter.

"Oh, Gerard," she said, bursting into tears, as her head sank upon his shoulder. "Had I not better go with you to London, to comfort him in his sorrow? My father, my poor father! I can never supply to him the loss of his dear son."

"Had he wished it, my sweet cousin, he would have made the request.

Public taste has dispensed with the presence of female mourners at the funerals of relations and friends. The gentle hearts that loved the truest and the best are denied by the tyrant fas.h.i.+on the blessed privilege of seeing the last sad rites performed for the beloved dead.

After Lord Fitzmorris' funeral your presence will be more needed. It is not until the earth closes her bars for ever on the loved and lost, that we can fully realize the fact that they can no more return to us."

On reaching the county town, Dorothy and her lover parted--one to act as chief mourner in a solemn and useless pageant, which the good sense of mankind ought to banish from the earth, with all its artificial trappings and hired mourners; the other to visit that grave of the living, a prison, and carry hope and comfort to the care-worn heart of the victim of a cruel and oppressive law, which demands of a man to pay his debts, while it deprives him of the chance of doing so.

Following the directions she had received from Gerard, Dorothy went first to Mr. Hodson, and learned from him that the debt for which her foster-father was in gaol, had been settled by her lover; that everything had been satisfactorily arranged with the other creditors, Rushmere having concluded to sell Heath Farm to Mr. Fitzmorris for the sum of two thousand pounds, which would pay all the demands upon the estate, and leave the old man at liberty.

The dry man of business was much struck by the extraordinary beauty of the young lady, who had deigned to visit his dusty office in behalf of the prisoner, and being a widower of some years' standing, without any inc.u.mbrance in the shape of children, it struck him that so charming a girl would make him an excellent second wife.

With this wise project in his head, he cross-questioned her very closely, on their way to the gaol, as to her parentage and station, to all which questions she gave such frank and straightforward answers, that he soon became acquainted with her private history.

Mr. Hodson had been employed to make old Mrs. Knight's will, and well remembered the remarkable clause it contained with regard to the child of the poor vagrant found on the Heath, which, if proofs could be actually obtained that Dorothy was the daughter of Alice Knight, whether legitimately or illegitimately, would ent.i.tle her to a fortune of thirty thousand pounds, with all its immense acc.u.mulations of interest and compound interest, for so many years.

It was a case worth looking into.

The old woman's death-bed confession, which had been made in his presence, to Mr. Martin, fully established a fact only known to them--that the conscience-stricken murderess of the mother had discovered in the corpse of the poor vagrant, her grandchild; so that all that was now required to ent.i.tle her child to inherit this large fortune was the registration of its birth. If it had taken place in any workhouse, or public charitable inst.i.tution, this might be obtained by offering suitable rewards, without the said Alice Knight had adopted a fict.i.tious name.

As the light began gradually to dawn upon his mind that this lovely girl was no other than Mrs. Knight's heiress, he rubbed his hands gleefully together, and told his fair visitor, that if she made him her friend, he might be able to put her in the way of obtaining a handsome fortune.

Dorothy laughed, and looked incredulously at the plain, matter-of-fact lawyer.

"How can I do that, sir? I have no money to give you."

"Not at present, my dear; but you can bestow upon me more than the worth of money, this dear little white hand!"

"Oh!" said Dorothy, s.n.a.t.c.hing her hand from him, before he could convey it to his lips, and without adopting the affectation of pretending not to understand his meaning, "I cannot do that, for it is given away already."

The lawyer's fine castle of a moment's building evaporated slowly into air, as he asked in a disconcerted tone:

"To whom?"

"A gentleman you know quite well. The Reverend Gerard Fitzmorris. It was he that directed me to you."

"Oh, I see. The gentleman that was here a few days ago, Lord Wilton's cousin, and successor to the t.i.tles and estates. That is, in case the Earl does not marry again. Young lady, I offer you my sincere congratulations, on your prospect of becoming a countess, and I hope,"

he continued, with great emphasis, "that you will forgive me, for wis.h.i.+ng to secure the affections of such a charming young lady."

"Oh, certainly. You are not much to be pitied, on so short an acquaintance," and Dorothy laughed merrily. "Had not the fortune something to do with it?" and she looked archly up in his face.

"No, upon my honour, I was struck with your appearance before you told me who you were. But really, Miss Chance, or Knight, or whatever we can prove your name to be, we must not lose sight of this fortune, and if you will pay me say five thousand pounds provided I am able to establish your claims, will you empower me to take the necessary steps?"

"But should you fail?"

"In that case, I should not claim a farthing."

"We will consult Gerard and Mr. Martin," said Dorothy, who thought that this might bring about proofs of her ident.i.ty, that would satisfy Lord Wilton, and she felt in high spirits at the possible result of such a legal inquiry. So, quite forgetful of the sly lawyer's proposal to make her his second wife, she chatted with him during their way to the gaol, in the most friendly and confidential manner.

She found Lawrence Rushmere, moping in the corner of the debtor's room, looking pale and haggard, with beard unshaven, and his uncombed locks falling round his face in tangled confusion. Running up to him, Dorothy flung her arms about his neck and tenderly embraced him. Rushmere looked up, and clasped her to his heart. "Dolly, is that you?"

"Yes, dear father."

"My dear girl, I be hearty glad to see thee. But what brought'ee, Dolly, to this confounded place?"

"To take you out of it."

"Where's Gilbert?" he asked, lowering his voice, and looking cautiously round lest the other debtors should hear him ask after his unworthy son.

"Gone, father, no one knows whither. He went off with that bad girl, Martha Wood, who, I believe, has been at the bottom of all the mischief."

"The young limb of iniquity. A fit companion for my son. And what has become of the wife?"

"Gone back to London."

"Joy go with her, she was a bad 'un. An' the cunning old witch, the mother?"

"Has left Hadstone never to return."

"An' the old place. What have they done with it?"

"It is open to receive you, father, when you return with me. I will soon make it bright and cosy again."

"Ah, well a day, Dolly. I hardly wish to see it again. It will only remind me o' happier days, o' a wife that I loved with my whole heart, o' a son that I can consider mine no longer. Who would ha' thought that such an excellent mother could ha' been parent to such a graceless bairn; that a good beginning should make such a sorry ending? Na, Dorothy, I cannot go back; even the bright black eyed la.s.s, who might ha' been my daughter, but for my folly, is going to carry joy an'

suns.h.i.+ne into another home. Let me bide, Dorothy, where I be! I can die as well here as in the old homestead."

"I cannot lose my dear old father yet. Where I am, there shall always be a warm nook by the fireside for him."

"Dolly, my darling, thou art one in a thousand. Yes, I will go with you.

Reach me my hat and staff."

The shrewd man of business thought with the yeoman that Dorothy was one in a thousand, and was not a little affected by her filial piety. He then accompanied Dorothy and her charge to the inn, and ordered a good dinner at his own expense, for the refreshments of the travellers. Over a gla.s.s of excellent home brewed, he told Rushmere of the hopes he entertained of securing Mrs. Knight's large bequest for the beautiful foundling. This news, however gratifying to the old man, on Dorothy's account, only served to increase the deep regret that was ever brooding in his mind, that his unreasonable obstinacy had been the cause of Gilbert's ruin and his own.