University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
THE CONFESSION OF THE MARQUIS.

The Marquis remained for a few minutes
silent, as if greatly exhausted with
talking; but, at length, with a strong effort
he gathered strength, and thus resumed
his confession to Lord Percival.

`I have said, my lord, that I have to
reveal to you an act of deep guilt that
weighs upon my conscience and will not
let me die in peace. You shall hear
what it was, and I hope that yet atonement
may in some degree be made, if
the object of my wicked cruelty and ambition
yet lives. I have already said that
the king was deeply, painfully interested
in the safety and comfort of the cast off
princess. He seemed daily to love it
more and more, and I could perceive, at
length, that it was in his thoughts and
heart far more than the prince. He never
spoke of it without some epithet of
pity and love, such as `the poor little
one'—`the sweet exile'—`the unfortunate
princess!' I could see that he was
becoming exceedingly nervous upon the
subject; and finally one day when I came
into the cabinet I found him greatly agitated.
I respectfully asked him the cause
of his grief, when he answered almost
sternly,—

`Do you ask me such a question, my
lord Marquis? Am I not miserable on
account of my poor little one? I cannot
sleep, my lord. The prince is almost
hateful in my sight. I have no affection
save for the princess. I have resolved.'

`What has your majesty resolved?'
I asked apprehensively, beginning to have
a suspicion of the truth.

`To acknowledge the princess before
the nation and the world. I can endure
this torture of conscience no longer.'

`Judge my amazement and consternation,
my lord Percival,' added the marquis,
`at these words. I endeavored to
dissuade the king from a step so fatal to
his honor, to his character, to the peace
of the realm. I assured him that all men
would stamp him with ignominy; that his
present acknowledgement of the princess
could not make the people forget or think
less of the act, of which he had been deliberately
guilty, of disinheriting her from
her birth. But his majesty was deaf to
all my entreaties, arguments and appeals.
He had firmly made up his mind, and I
saw that it would be impossible to move
him from his purpose.

`This determination, my lord, I have
now to confess,' continued the Marquis,
`was the more disagreeable to me from
the fact that I had already formed in my
own mind a bold and ambitious project
with reference to this friendless child;
and the king's resolution would over-throw
it, as well as involve me in the infamy
which would attach to himself from
the public recognition he contemplated;
for I knew the world would blame me
for concealing the birth of the princess,
and attribute the whole proceeding to my
advice and influence. On this account
alone, therefore, I would resolutely have
opposed the course now meditated by
his majesty. But, as I have hinted, I

had a profounder motive. Ambition lay
at the bottom of it. I had a son, my
lord Percival, who was then in his
seventh year. I one day cast my eyes
upon him and in contemplating his future
career through life, an idea suddenly
flashed upon me. I cherished it, fed it,
thought upon it night and day, at length
fully matured it and resolved to direct all
my energies to bring about the ambitious
result which it held out to me. My project
was to take an opportunity of spiriting
away the infant princess, conveying
it to some remote place and there bringing
her up in ignorance of her birth. I
intended that the king should be led to
believe that it died in the cottage of the
park-keeper. When the princess should
have reached her sixteenth birth day I
intended to solemnize a marriage between
her and my son, whom I should previously
inform of the rank of his bride, and
whom I intended to educate for a throne.
The princess, on the contrary, I intended
to have brought up until her tenth year in
total ignoranee even of the letters of the
alphabet, and perfectly secluded from all
intercourse with others. At that age I
intended to remove her from those I
should place her with to my own house
and personally begin her education. By
this time the king would not suspect she
was his child even if he saw her at my
house, as I intended to pass her off as an
orphan whom I had adopted. My object
in keeping her from books and the society
of others was that when she came
into my hands her mind might be a perfect
blank upon which I could write
what I pleased. I intended to educate
her in my own way in politics, in religion
and in every thing which would bear in
my favor in the future destiny I had
marked out for her and my son. In a
word, my lord, I intended through her
when the king should die to raise up a
powerful rival to the Prince Royal and
by means of a revolution place the crown
jointly upon her head and that of my son.
You look astounded, my lord!'

`And well I may. And did you carry
out any portion of this scheme of ambition,
my lord marquis?' asked the earl,
with a countenance marked with the profoundest
surprise, not unmingled with horror
at the wickedness which was being
developed in the dying confession of the
marquis.

`You shall hear, my lord. Finding
that I could not persuade the King to
give up his fatal purpose, I made up my
mind. I appeared to assent, and then
subtlely asked his Majesty to give me a
writing, under his own royal hand, that,
if I brought the princess back to the palace,
and the public recognition was promulgated,
he would clear me of all blame
in the original act of disinheritance.—
This he said he would do. I suggested
that he should write it then, and he at
once sat down and penned the instrument,
which you will see here, my lord. As
the King is no more, I shall do him no
wrong in showing it.

Here the marquis drew from beneath
his pillow a paper, which he placed in
the hands of the astonished Lord Percival.
The earl opened it and read as
follows:—

`I hereby do exonerate Edgar, Marquis
of Ross, from all and every blame
in the matter touching the wicked disinheritance
of the Princess Virginia, who
I acknowledge to be the twin sister of
the prince royal, and I, with great joy,
am this day to invest in all her rights and
privileges as eldest born heir to the
crown.'

`This instrument was signed and sealed
by the late King; and when the earl
had read it, he folded it up with looks of
amazement and replaced it in the trembling
hand of the marquis, who anxiously
extended it for its return.

“That instrument,' he resumed, `the
King wrote from my lips. My object in
getting it from him, my lord, was not to
clear myself, for I had resolved the
child should never be acknowledged. It
was to show to the people some fifteen
years afterwards, in proof of the legitimacy
of the princess in whose behalf I was to
rouse the nation to arms. I had also the
testimony of the nurse, which I artfully
obtained the same night I left the King's
presence. Upon quitting the King, I
hastened to an apothecary's and purchased
a harmless medicine, and, with it
in my pocket-book, hastened to the
house of the park-keeper. I found the
infant princess in blooming health. It
was then about nine months old, and a
very lovely child it was. Taking advantage
of the nurse's confidence in me, I
took it in my arms and walked into the
garden with it, the park-keeper's wife
supposing me to be a London merchant,
its father; as I had represented myself
to her to be such, and a widower who
could not take care of so young a child
myself. While in the garden I placed a
lozenge in the mouth of the child, and
let it suck it for a few moments. I then
removed it, and soon after, returning the
babe to the woman, left to ride up to the
palace at Windsor. At the end of three
hours I returned. As I anticipated, the
woman called to me in great distress, and
said that the child was taken suddenly
very ill an hour before, and she was
alarmed for its life. I returned to London
and informed the King that the child
was too ill to be removed. He was
greatly afflicted, and resolved to visit it
himself. He went down the same night
to Windsor, and thence, in disguise,
hastened to the cottage. He found my
report corroborated. The next day, while
the King was in his bed-chamber, and
was preparing to visit the princess, I
brought him the report of the child's
death. He took it very bitterly, and at
the moment resolved he would still acknowledge
it, and it should be buried
with royal honors. This I firmly opposed,
assuring him that no good could
now come from such a step, and that
only disgrace before his people would result.
He at length saw the matter in this
light, and bade me have the child decently
buried and never speak to him of it
again. I had accomplished my object,
though with not a little difficulty. I hastened
to the house of the under park-keeper
and found the child as I had left
it an hour before, in a state of torpor like
that of death. The woman was weeping
over it. I told her I should take it up to
London in my carriage, and have it
placed in my tomb there. I rewarded her
largely. I took the child away wrapped
in my cloak, and drove off for the town.'

`And did the child survive?' asked the
earl with painful and deep interest.

`Your lordship shall learn. I had been
a few days before this to an exhibition of
the Deaf and Dumb Asylum. I had been
interested in the intelligence and reason
they displayed, and I was particularly
struck with one young woman, who, I
was told, was an orphan and much beloved
for her sweetness of disposition.—
When a man is forming a project, my
lord, every advantage that belongs naturally
to his purpose comes to his mind.
He seizes readily and instincttvely upon
ideas that hours of inventive meditation
would not have suggested to him. When
I decided upon abducting the child to
make it, at some future day, the stepping-stone
to the throne of my own family,
I conceived the idea of placing it in
charge of a mute nurse. This notion
was suggested to me by my visit to the
institution; for the mind, when active,
makes use of everything that falls within
the scope of its observation. I saw in
such a nurse the seal of secresy. I saw

also the very person who could bring up
the child in ignorance, and almost without
intelligence, until the time came for
me to take the plastic and unworked material
and mould it at my will.

`The idea had no sooner been conceived
than I resolved to carry it out.—
When, therefore, I got the child into my
hands, I drove it over to my residence in
London. It revived, however, ere I
reached town, as I made use of the antidote
to the medicament I had given it,
as soon as I got it into the carriage.—
When I reached my house it was living,
thongh pale; for it had been suffering.
I left the child in charge of my house-keeper,
saying I had found it on the road
and should in the morning send it to the
Asylum for refuge. I then drove to the
Institutien for mutes, entered into an engagement
with the principal to be the
future protector of the orphan young woman,
who had so much interested me
before.'

`Did you give her name, my Lord?'
asked the Earl.

`Yes. I took the young woman away
with me, but previously desiring the principal
to inform her, that she was to take
charge of an infant, and perhaps go upon
the sea. At this the young woman seemed
to be gratified, and willingly went with
me. In the vicinity of London was a
small farm house, the tenant of which
was an old man who had once been my
father's coachman. I took the young
woman and child to his abode, and left
them in charge of the old man and his
wife.

`Still I was uneasy. I was fearful
that by some reasons, the fact might get
abroad, and reach the ears of the King;
for as with all guilty men, I believed that
I was suspected. The old man, too,
seemed to be inquisitive about the young
woman and child; and I have no doubt
her being deaf and dumb, only prevented
the secret that she was not her own child,
as I had represented, from having been
divulged. But as she was deaf and
dumb, I could easily pass the child off
whenever I pleased as hers! for she
could never deny it!'

`This was a deep and acutely laid
scheme, my Lord! But I beg you will
proceed; for I have the greatest desire
to know the end of this extraordinary affair!'

`I will not be long in coming to it, my
lord!' answered the Marquis with a deep
groan. `My fears at length became so
lively, lest the King should discover what
I had done, and thus defeat all my ambitious
hopes, as well as disgrace me,
that I came to the determination, which I
had before often thought upon, of sending
the child out of England. At length an
opportunity was offered, and I proceeded
to put my plan into execution. There
was residing in the Bermudas, my Lord,
a man who had been guilty of high treason,
and had forfeited his life to the crown.
It was Sir Robert Oakford!'

`The man who betrayed to the French
the destination of the fleet under Collingwood?'
exclaimed Lord Percy.

`Yes!'

`I supposed he had died in the tower,
the day before he was to have been executed!'

`So all men supposed. He was pardoned
by the King at the earnest appeal
of his wife and children; and his sentence
was privately commuted to banishment
from England to the island of Bermuda.
His wife and family remained
on his estate under the King's eye, and
were securities for his submission to the
sentence of exile, and his constant residence
in the island. He was led to understand
before he was secretly taken
from the tower to embark, that any attempt
on his part to escape, would be
visited upon his wife and children, to

whom we knew he was tenderly attached.
He had been gone but two months,
when his only sister followed him, resolved
to share his exile. He was allowed
from his own estate, three hundred
a year for his support. His penitence
and his submission being for a period of
three years fairly tested, I employed him
to act as a spy upon certain persons in
Bermuda, and he faithfully executed the
confidential missions entrusted to him.—
He had good cause to be true to me, for
at any moment he knew he might be
called to England and executed. Upon
this man I fixed for the future protector
of the infant princess! About the same
time I had heard through Admiral Collingwood,
of certain services the notorious
smuggler Vance, since, better known
as the outlaw Bonfield, had done the Admiralty
by taking despatches over to Nelson's
fleet. This information was not
lost upon me. I desired Collingwood to
send the man to me, as I had secret services
also, in which I should like to employ
such a man. I told the Admiral to
send him with his vessel to the Thames,
on a certain day. The smuggler was
there. I boarded him by night, and after
a brief interview with him, engaged
him for five thousand pounds to take the
woman and child to Bermuda, and leave
it in charge of the Oakfords. They were
conveyed on board, and the same night
he set sail.'

`And did he got to Bermuda?' asked
the Earl, earnestly, as the Marquis paused
to recover breath, for he was growing
weaker momently.

`Yes. He faithfully executed the trust
imposed upon him. The child remained
under Oakford's care until its sixth year,
and during the interval I had often heard
from it, and that it was doing well. I
also ascertained that Vance regularly
visited it, which I by no means liked;
for I wished him to forget the child. But
it seems he had taken a great fancy to
it, and came to see it from pure affection.
At length, apprehending that evil would
come of it, by and by, to my plans, I wrote
to Oakford, saying, he must secretly remove
from the island and go to Jamaica,
so that Vance might lose all clue to the
child. But my letter had not been a
week gone on its way, when I was thrown
into consternation by receiving one from
Oakford, informing me that the night before
he wrote, the buccanier, Bonfield,
had landed with a strong party, and forcibly
carried off the infant and the mute
nurse, leaving at the same time a note
for me, which he enclosed. Judge of
my surprise, my rage, my alarm! I
immediately conceived the suspicion that
Vance had some idea who the child was,
suspected my object, and stole it away,
with the intention of defeating it.'

`This same buccaneer is now captured
and his vessel is in the river!' cried the
Earl.

`I heard so to-day, and it was this
news that so agitated me as to bring on
the attack which will end my life, my
lord. I was told he was captured and
yesterday brought up to the city. I had
not heard from the infant princess from
the time she was stolen from Oakford up
to this day; and when I heard of the arrest
of the man who only could tell me
her fate. I became greatly excited, and
resolved that I would visit him as soon
as night came. But night finds me here,
dying!'

`What reason have you to suppose
she still lives, my lord?' asked the Earl;
for you said a short while since you had
reason to believe she was alive!'

`From what was told me by Oakford.
I sent for him to come to England and
let me know personally all the facts connected
with her disappearance. He then
told me that I once said so long as she
lives I should not hear from her; but

whenever she died information should be
sent to me. This is my only hope, my
lord. Oh, that she were living that I
might make some atonement to the innocent
victim of my ambition. But for
me she would now have been on the
throne of the realm. I fear I shall never
be forgiven this iniquity, my lord. But,
what I have sent to thee for is, not to
confess to thee, but to urge thee to hasten
to this Bonfield and learn from him what
has become of the child. I implore you,
my lord, to urge him to revcal. Perhaps
something yet may be done, through
you, to undo the evil I have contemplated.
And my son too for whom I did this
wrong is dead. He was killed as you
know by a fall from a horse in a hunt.
All I wish to live for is to see this wronged
princess restored to her rights. But
I can never live to see it. I shall die
ere midnight. I am sinking fast, my
lord. I have spent my last strength in
confessing to you. Leave no means untried,
my lord, to find out and do justice
to the princess.'

`Believe me, my lord, when I solemnly
assure you, that I will make every
human effort to bring about this desirable
end. But she is probably no more.'

`Say not so, my lord,' cried the Marquis
in great anguish and horror of mind.
`Destroy not in my soul the hope that
she lives and will yet by your agency be
restored to her own. The king is dead.
Through me only could the knowledge
of her birth reach the nation.' Here his
utterance became thick and laboured.
He was death-struck. `In making it
to you I have done all I can do! My
lord, fare-well! Do not forget! My
salvation—hangs upon—her be-being—
alive!'

The unhappy nobleman threw out his
arms as if to save himself, like a person
falling from a height, and then fell back
ward and, struggling for a moment convulsively,
died!

Lord Percival regarded him for a few
seconds with pity not unmixed with horror.
At length he turned away, saying,

`So die the wicked! If my prayer be
not too late may God have mercy upon
his soul.'

The Earl then took from his hand the
paper which the king had signed, crossed
the room to the door, and opening it called
to the attendants, saying,

`Your lord has just expired!'

`The interview was too much for him,'
said the surgeon, coming in from the opposite
apartment; `I found it would
hasten his exit to to talk much. But he
could not have lived longer than morning.
In what a tempest of wind and
rain his spirit has flown. There died a
man who has long held a distinguished
place in the affairs of the nation, my
lord.'

`Yes,' answered the Earl, as he left
the chamber of death.

He at once hastened to his own palace,
and notwithstanding the violence of the
storm, which we have already described
in the opening of this story, he resolved
at once to put off to the schooner where
the bucanier or, more properly, the
smuggler was confined awaiting the order
to be removed to prison. But before
going he sat down and wrote two or three
notes, one of which was addressed to the
King.

We have seen the Earl arrive at the
abode of Martin the boatman attended by
his valet Paul and his departure under
the guidance of Martin for the schooner,
amid one of the most violent storms that
ever swept over the waters of the
Thames.

We have seen his arrival on board,
and witnessed his long interview with
Bonfield; and returned with him again
to the abode of the boatman. Here we

have noticed his benevolence and the exercise
of his power over the wicked creditor
of the young waterman. From
thence we have followed him to his own
abode and to the retirement of his private
apartment.

We shall now proceed with our story
in an unbroken chain, advancing the
scenes to the following morning, when
the Earl rising hastened to the palace.