University of Virginia Library

25. CHAPTER XXV.
CONCLUSION.

The marquis, upon hearing the announcement
made by Sir John, laid his hand upon
Lord Robert's arm and said, in a tone of gentle
caution,

`Not too abruptly, my son! The shock
may be too much for thy child! Meet her
calmly that you may not cause her to be
overcome!'

`I will be calm, my father,' answered he,
his voice shaking with agitation.

`This is a painful affair enough, sir,' said
Sir John to Ringold, as he stood back after
opening the library door for the two to pass
in; `it has come so unexpected, I can't
realize it!'

`Then the earl has made known to you all
the particulars, sir?'

`I only known that there has been some
wickedness in years gone by, and that Lady
Winfred, bless her heart! is not his niece
but the grand daughter of the Marquis of
* * * *, who was supposed to be dead long
ago, and now appears with her father to
claim her! But pass in, sir; let us witness
their meeting. Poor Lady Winfred; as I
came out, she was trembling both with joy
and fear!'

But before we enter the library, where this
interesting meeting is about to take place we
will record what passed between the earl and
the maiden, at the interview he had called
her to, in order that he might prepare to recieve
her parent.

`Lady Winfred,' said the earl, as soon as
he could sufficiently command his emotion,
which was occasioned as much by his grief
at parting with her as by the necessity he
was under of exposing himself to her detestation,
`I am about to remove from your
mind a deception, to which you have long
been a victim. You are no relation to me—
wholly unconnected with me or my house by
ties of blood or marriage!'

`This is dreadful, uncle! you jest!' she
cried, pale as death.

`No. I speak the truth!'

`Then you are to cast me off. Yet I shall
still love thee, though I should prove to be
a peasant's daughter! But explain this fearful
mystery!'

`You are not a peasant's daughter, Lady
Winfred, but the representative of a family,
older and more noble than mine!'

`Were I an emperor's daughter, I shoud
still love you and cherish the memory of
your kindness to me.'

`Noble daughter! Would that I were not
forced to part with you. But I have been a
guilty man. I have done much wrong in my
years. The best I can do is to make restitution.
Hear me briefly, for I cannot dwell to
the ears of your affection upon my crimes.

`Crimes!'

`You start with surprise! You will next
fly from me with horror!'

`Uncle, what appalling language! I can
not believe you know what you say!'

`I speak with full knowledge of my words,'
he answered bitterly.

`I cannot believe you guilty of wrong!'

`You shall judge. When I was a young
man, I was very dissolute. I sought only
pleasure. I became enamored of a lovely
woman—the youthful wife of a noble marquis.
She scorned my addresses, and I was
so wicked as to place her character in such
a light, that her husband, believing her fallen,
left her and fled the country.'

`Oh, uncle, this cannot be true of you!'
she cried with horror, and regarding him
with looks of involuntary fear if not of
aversion.

`She was dismissed from court by the
queen and returned to her father's estate,
disgraced; yet, as I now assert to you, as if
I were a I dying man, as pure and innocent as
an angel; for it was her virtue that inflamed
my vengeance against her!'

Lady Wintred had laid her hand affectionately
upon his arm at the beginning of his
confession, but gradually it withdrew itself,
and now she moved a little. Her features
were rigid with fear and amazement, mingled
with that instinctive pity with which innocence

looks upon guilt, a pity blent with abhorrence.

`This injured lady, the victim of my revenge,
at length gave birth to a son, which
the crown refused to acknowledge as the just
heir to the marquis' title and estates. At
length years passed away and the son arrived
at the age of manhood—married and had a
daughter. I heard of this daughter, and my
conscience smote me, for the part I had acted
in keeping her out of her just rights; for her
father was a poor man—made so by my guilt.
But I did not desire to expose my crime to
the world, by acknowledging the innocence
of her grandmother, and so I resolved that I
would get possession of her—educate her to
the rank to which she was justly born, and at
my death have a written confession, which,
fully criminating me, would establish to the
world the innocence of her grandmother, and
place her in the possesion of the honors of
her grandfather, the marquis, who was supposed
to have died in exile.'

`Oh, what fearful revelations are these,
my lord!'

`The child, I obtained possession of, and
it is now into her startled ears, I am pouring
the tale of my wrongs to her father and
grandmother! I cannot ask forgiveness, for
I have to deeply wronged you. And —'

`What, what became of my mother—of
my father—of —?' almost gasped Lady
Winfred, with a face, through which curiosity
struggled with horror and fear.

`Your father lives! You were always
right, Lady Winfred, in saying you recollected
him, and remembered the scenes of
your youth! In America, by a combination
of circumstances that I cannot reflect upon
without amazement and awe, in America, in
the depths of its forests, I met with the man
I had so injured in my youth, the Marquis of
* * * *, who had been for four-score years
an exile; and also I met his son, your father.
They are now both in the palace, and waiting
to embrace you. Nay, do not bound
away thus with looks of such wild joy, ere
you say you forgive me! I have wronged
them, Winfred, I have been kind and good
to thee!'

`Thou hast, my lord, thou hast. But I
cannot forgive thee! Thou hast done a
grevious injury to my father and my grandmother!'

`I know it—I know it—I am truly penitent—I
tried to atone to thee for it—pardon
me—forgive—see, I kneel to thee! Des
pise me not; for you are the only one that
ever loved me—that I ever loved. Hate me,
Winfred, and I can no longer live. How
can I upbear the world's scorn, and the hatred
of my child!'

`My lord, I forgive you! But my heart
bleeds for them thou hast done so much evil
to. I will remember thee with kindness and
with gratitude; but thou shouldst have let
me know that my father lived—that his
daughter lived, that we might be happy in
each other's love. Thou canst never restore
to him the years of my childhood and girlhood,
which have passed unenjoyed by him;
you can never restore to me the years of my
father's affection which should have been
mine.'

`How bitter are thy words!' he cried, falling
with his face to the ground.

`May Heaven forgive thee—I do!' she
said with sudden emotion. `Rise up, my
lord, and lead me to my father. My heart
yearns to embrace him. I see his face as I
beheld it in my childhood.'

`You shall see him,' said the earl, rising,
with a gloomy brow, and going to the door,
where he spoke to Sir John, who, as we have
seen, passed through into the ante-ronm.—
The earl had secretly hoped that the affection
of Lady Winfred would outlive the humiliating
confession of his guilt; but when he
saw that her generous spirit was roused to
indignant surprise as he began to unfold his
infamy, he began to tremble for his hold upon
her heart. She was, he perceived, too high
spirited, had too lofty a sense of justice to
pass lightly such crimes, or listen to them
without horror and detestation; for though
the veil of time had, as it were, obscured
them to his own mind, upon her own they
fell as fresh as his words.

As the door opened and the venerable marquis
entered, leaning upon the arm of Lord
Robert, Lady Winfred unconsciously impelled
by her eager affection which was momently
unfolding its wings to fly to the paternal
embrace, had no sooner beheld the countenance
of the latter beaming on her with the
quick glance of joyful recognition, (for he
beheld the living portrait in her,) than uttering
the wild glad cry, `My father!' she
sprang into his arms and sank upon his
bosom.

`My child! oh, my child!' sobbed Lord
Robert, as he drew her closer to his heart.
`For this moment of bliss I thank thee, oh
God!'

For a moment, there prevailed a deep and
thrilling silence—a silence sacred to joy unspeakable.
At length Robert raised his
daughter's face to his and gazed fondly into
the glistening blue eyes he had so loved to
look into when she was a child, and he saw
them the same loving soul of his daughter
that had met his own then; and again tolding
her to his heart he cried,

`Thou art indeed my daughter! Lost but
found! My own beloved Winney: my child
so long mourned as dead!'

`Let me also embrace thee, my daughter,'
said the marquis whose face shone like a
seraph's, as he received the happy girl upon
his bosom and blessed her.

`It is thy grandfather, my child, the Marquis
of * * * *,' said Robert, as the
tears ran down his bronzed cheeks.

The earl stood regarding the scene with a
face that would have excited the pity of Vengeance,
armed! The happy Winfred turning
round once more to receive her father's
caress, caught sight of its expression of sorrow
and shame, and conscious degradation.

`My dear father—my noble grandfather,'
she said with generous feeling, `let not this
moment of joy be clouded by any bitter remembrances.
For my sake forgive the Earl
of * * * *, who seems so sincerely to
repent what he has done to your injury.'

`I forgive him, if thou wilt, my daughter,'
said Lord Robert.

`I freely forgive him.'

`Then he has my forgiveness, also,' answered
the marquis, though with something
like reluctance. `I am willing, my lord, to
leave thy punishment with God.'

The earl bowed, laying his hand upon his
heart, and then said:

`So far as I have had it in my power, my
lords, I have attoned for the past. I am
ready to do what lays in my power towards
establishing before the world the innocence
of—'

`Hist! let not her pure name fall from thy
lips, earl,' said the marquis, sternly. `If
thou art wanted, thou wilt be called upon.—
I will now take leave of thee; for though I
forgive thee thy crimes, I do not wish to
share thy hospitality.'

This was spoken with such firmness and
feeling, that the earl saw that he could not
prevail on him to stay. Lord Robert also
said that he must depart at once, and told
his daughter as he again and again folded
her to his bosom, to hasten her preparations
to go with him to the halls of her fathers.

Lady Winfred with a smile turned to leave
him, when her eyes fell on the face of Ringold,
who had been standing aloof gazing
upon the scenes passing before him with the
deepest interest; his eyes all the while following
every movement of the beautiful girl,
and his ears hanging on every sound that tell
from her lips.

His eyes were so fixedly bent upon her as
she turned round and for the first time beheld
him, that they met hers full. Instantly,
a deep blush of surprise mantled her cheek
and brow, and he saw with a joy he could
scarcely control, that she had not forgotten
him. The emotion which she manifested
was not unnoticed by Lord Robert, who smiled
upon Ringold as if he were well pleased
to witness such a proof of her having
borne him in her memory, if not in her
heart.

`Who, who is that young gentleman, sir?'
she asked in a low voice, sweetly tremulous,
of her father.

`It is Ringold Griffitt, an artist and a generous
gentleman, my friend and your grandfather's,
and who, I trust, you will yet one
day know better,' answered Lord Robert,
smiling. `I see you have met before! But
go and get ready, my child, and tell me afterwards
what you have to say.'

The blushing girl hastened from the room,
and Ringold was grasped by the hand by
Robert Burnside, who said:

`I see that you did not hope in vain. She
is yours, if maiden's eye ever betrayed her
heart.'

In another hour the whole party had quitted
the palace and its solitary, wretched occupant,
and, by the light of a bright moon,
at the end of four hours reached the castle of
the marquis.

Ringold did not go to London to become
an artist, but in a few months became the
happy husband of the high-born Lady Winfred.
Ned Whitlock had anticipated him
four months, in taking to wife Kate Boyd,
who, at the end of a year, made a good scholar
of him, and gave him perfectly to understand
the difference between Reading, Writing,
Arithmetic and the' R's.