human
My God! the Indian officer said, with wild eyes of terror and affright,
gpt
The truth, Col. Jocyln--the simple truth. Would to Heaven I had known it years ago--this shameful story of wrong-doing and misery!
human
I don't comprehend--I can't comprehend this impossible tale, Sir Rupert.
gpt
That is a misnomer now, Col. Jocyln. I am no longer _Sir_ Rupert.
human
Do you mean to say you credit this wild story of a former marriage of Sir Noel's? Do you really believe your late governess to have been your father's wife?
gpt
I believe it, colonel. I have facts and statements and dying words to prove it. On my father's death-bed he made my mother swear to tell the truth; to repair the wrong he had done; to seek out his son, concealed by his valet, Vyking, and restore him to his rights! My mother never, kept that promise--the cruel wrong done to herself was too bitter; and at my birth she resolved never to keep it. I should not atone for the sin of my father; his elder son should never deprive _her_ child of his birthright. My poor mother! You know the cause of that mysterious trouble which fell upon her at my father's death, and which darkened her life to the last. Shame, remorse, anger--shame for herself--a wife only in name; remorse for her broken vow to the dead, and anger against that erring dead man.
human
But you told me she had hunted him up and provided for him,
gpt
Yes; she saw an advertisement in a London paper calling upon Vyking to take charge of the boy he had left twelve years before. Now, Vyking, the valet, had been transported for house-breaking long before that, and my mother answered the advertisement. There could be no doubt the child was the child Vyking had taken charge of--Sir Noel Thetford's rightful heir. My mother left him with the painter, Legard, with whom he had grew up, whose name he took, and he is now at Thetford Towers.
human
I thought the likeness meant something, muttered the colonel;
gpt
raising his voice,
human
Mrs. Weymore recognized her son. Really, your story runs like a melodrama, where the hero turns out to be a duke and his mother knows the strawberry mark on his arm. Well, sir, if Mrs. Weymore is Sir Noel's rightful widow, and Guy Legard his rightful son and heir--pray what are you?
gpt
My, mother was as truly and really Sir Noel's wife as women can be the wife of man in the sight of Heaven. The crime was his; the shame and suffering hers; the atonement mine. Sir Noel's elder son shall be Sir Noel's heir--I will play usurper no longer. To-morrow I leave St. Gosport; the day after, England--never, perhaps, to return.
human
You are mad, Col. Jocyln said, turning very pale;
gpt
I am not mad, and I do mean it. I may be unfortunate; but, I pray God, never a villain! Right is right; my brother Guy is the rightful heir--not I!
human
And Aileen?
gpt
It shall be as she says. Aileen is too noble and just herself not to honor me for doing right.
human
It shall be as I say, returned Col. Jocyln, with a voice that rang and an eye that flashed.
gpt
My daughter comes of a proud and stainless race, and never shall she mate with one less stainless. Hear me out, young man. It won't do to fire up--plain words are best suited to a plain case. All that has passed betwixt you and Miss Jocyln must be as if it had never been. The heir of Thetford Towers, honorably born, I consented she should marry; but, dearly as I love her, I would see her dead at my feet before she should mate with one who was nameless and impoverished. You said just now the atonement was yours--you said right; go, and never return.
human
Will you not permit your daughter, Col. Jocyln, to speak for herself?
gpt
No, sir. I know my daughter--my proud, high-spirited Aileen--and my answer is hers. I wish you good-night.