CHAPTER LXXI THE HERMIT'S STORY.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 303, 29 September 1888, Page 5

CHAPTER LXXI THE HERMIT'S STORY.

The earl was convalescent, at least he had recovered sufficiently to be removed ; and °n the eve of their departure a very happy Httleparty gathered about the blazing woodfire in the hermit's cave. On the morrow they were to separate — the earl and his family were going by slow stages to Strathspey Towers, and Doctor Renfrew and Maggie were to return to their long-forsaken cottage. The earl and his family, his wife, his son ! Sittiug there, bolstered up on his couch, wrapped in his dressing-gown, the pale, wasted, meek-faced invalid looked very unlike the proud and haughty peer of days gone by, but in his eyes was a light of holy happiness they had never known before. He could not rest if his wife left him for an instant ; sleeping or waking, her hand must be clasped in his, her sweet, white face must be where he could see it continually. ' I cannot quite believe that you are alive, and all my own, Marguerite, 3 he would say, with touching tenderness, ' and I'm constantly in dread that you'll vanish from me like a dream. ' * I shall never vanish again, dearest,' she would reply. ' Heaven has given us to each other for time and eternity ; we will never part again.' And now they sat together, in the red glow of the wood -blaze, the October winds wailing without, Lady Strathspey supporting her husband's head, and their son, the young man who needed no better proof of his birthright than the face that he bore, his father's own face over again, sitting a little apart. Sir Marshall Neville and his wife had gone on to the Towers, and Lady Marguerite- had accompanied them, but the doctor remained with his patient, and Maggie remained with her father. • There are many things to be explained before we part,' remarked the hermit, as he threw another fagot on the fire ; ' and perhaps it is as well to begin now. Your lordship, doubtless, has 3ome curiosity to hear the history of your son's life, and to be assured that he is your son, and no impostor ?' The earl bowed gravely, and his countess smiled, her own pathetic, tender smile, her eyes resting on the noble face of the boy, for whose sake she had borne so much, with unutterable love. ' We need no assurance,' she said : ' our hearts tell us the truth, a truth that cannot be mistaken — and my son's face speak 3 for itself — he is the Earl of Strathspey's son.' 'He is the Earl of Strathspey's son,' replied the hermit, solemnly ; ' there is not one link lost in the mysterious chain of events that goes to prove his identity. I have been living in this cavern for over two-score years,' he continued, { excluded from the world for what reason, there is no need of telling here. Fifteen years ago, thi? summer gone, I was awakened about midnight, one stormy night, by the sound of human voices. As no one ever intruded upon me, or even seemed to suspect that this cavern was inhabited, I felt somewhat startled at first, and lay perfectly quiet, listening to what was going on. There were two persons within the cave, a man and woman, and they were holding an angry altercation. " I will not kill the boy,' were the first words I understood, spoken in • the man's voice. " I tell you he shall be killed,' replied the woman, shrilly ; • I'll do it myself. You fooled Lady Drummond the first time,*ybu. shall not do it again. Do you want him to live and supplant our own boy ?' " No ! neither do I want my hands stained with blood again. I tried that work once, and I'll never do it again. .I'll leave the child here in this cave— if he dieiv 'tis no lookout o' mine, if, he lives, let him live— the -world's wide enough for him and us, tob.' - -*■ ' ,'- r "But ifhis birth, should come tonight, if Lady Drummond should find^out.theri our 1 own boy- will r suffer. '^ 4 , ' '" -2 . \' <■ • \}- - Ii 4 "'"But the Earl of Stirathspeyjias received' our boy las ' his' 'own; son', ra^djherwop'tbe likely, to abandonvhim jjJjpd'Lady^rum-^ j mond * never {will tfincl#out!, v if^you'lP only I

' keep close. Come, the boy's asleep ; we'll leave him here, and tell Lady Drummond he's dead.' , )lr ' There was some little more alteroation, and then they departed. I arose, and, taking a light, went into the main cavern, and there, reposing on a bed of moss and leaves, was a little lad, with fair hair, and fair face, and on his right arm, from which the loose sleeve had fallen back, gleamed a blood-red cross. 'I had heard of the famouß Strathspey birth-mark, the scarlet cross, and I was pretty well convinced that the child was the Earl of Strathspey's son. ' I took him in my arms, and brought him in here, and laid him down upon my couch. He slept all night, and awoke the next morning, and looked around him wibh the brightest blue eyes that ever a lad possessed. i •He said his name was Romulus, and ' that he used to live Avith his grandmother, under the mountains ; but the bad woman stole him from the pretty lady who was his mother. • I fully intended to take the child to the Earl of Strathspey, and tell him what I know, but upon inquiry I found that the earl had gone abroad, and that his countess was insane, and there seemed to have been great trouble in regard to this same boy. clnc In the meantime, as the days 'wore along, my little lad grew very dear to me, it was like giving up my life to part from him. And I argued, selfishly perhaps, that he might come to harm again if I let him go out of my hands. •To be brief, I determined to keep him with me, to rear him up to manhood, and wait for an opportunity to restore him to his father. • He has been the blessing of my blighted life, for long and lonely years. I have done a good part by him, too. I sent him to Heidelberg and then to France, and his education is thorough. And now, Lord Strathspey, I restore him to you and your countess, a son you may justly be proud of.' The earl, unable to utter a word, held out his hand, which the hermit grasped ; and Lady Strathspey, who was weeping softly, crossed to her son's side and embraced him. ' And all these years, my boy, you have known you were Lord Strathspey's son ? Why didn't you seek your father, and make youi'self known to him ?' The young man laughed, and laid his hand caressingly on his mother's rippling hair. { It was no easy task, my little mother,' he said, playfully, 'to bear the Earl of Strathspey in his castle, and avow myself his son. I thought it better to wait till fortune made my way clear, and you see, she did not tail me.' ' But there is other proof yet, the strongest proof of all,' continued the hermit, when the little flutter of joy had subsided ; ' needless no doubt, but it will make assurance doubly sure.' He arose as he spoke, and disappeared into alittle alcove curtained offbeyondthem, almost immediately returning accompanied by the man Berkit. He came limping in, and his dark, scarred face looked ill and pale. 'Now, sir,' commanded the hermit, sternly, indicating a seat near at hand, •we will hear your confession, and if you expect to receive the undeserved mercy you have been promised, make a clean breast of it. ' The man sat down, shifting uneasily from the earl's solemn eyes. ' That's what I've made up my mind to do,' he began, ' and if yer worships will let me off this time, I mean to cut clear o' Lady Drummond and the whole pack, and go back to the old folks, where I should a gone over twenty years ago. 'I hardly know how to begin,' he went on, his eyes on the floor, his fingers working nerrously, 'it is sich a long, tanI gled-up tale. •It is over twenty-five years ago that I run away from my father and mother as lives down in the Tyrol, under the mountains, and went to sea. I was always a j roving blade, and tending goats didn't agree with me. I went to sea, and was gone six years 'fore I ever set foot on English soil agin. ' I had good luck, and made a right sharp pile o' cash, and when I landed in Liverpool I thought I'd run up to London and have a week's frolic, and then cross the Channel and see after the old folks. • But instead of a week I stayed a month, and in the course o' my frolicking I fell in love with a black-eyed lady's maid. A half gypsy she was, but wonderful 'andsome, and I loved her like mad. But she was a skittish gal, and liked to have more than one string to her bow, and after we was man and wife, "and I'd spent all my money on her, she played me false. She hung on to a gentleman's footman, who wore a laced coat, and went off to Northumberland, giving me the slip. ' She was Lady Drummond's maid, and they went to an old place called Cavendish Manor. I followed 'em, bent on revenge. I was a wild, hot-blooded feller in those days. •To cut matters short, I found her and her footman together, and I flew at him, right there in the servants' hall. He caught up a carving knife and give me this ugly scar, and that made me, wild. I got my dagger, which I allers carried, and killed him — killed him right there and then. 'Heaven, yer honors, murder be an awful thing,' he went on, shuddering and working his hands together ; ' I hain't got that man's blood off my hands to this day — it will follow me to my grave ; that night's work was my ruin. 'Lady Drummond she got wind o' the murder, and she had me seized and locked up in one o' the great vaults under the old house. Then she come at me herself, sich a woman, wi eyes like the stars of heaven. ' She told me I'd be hung if she informed agin me, but she wanted a job done — an' if I'd do it, the murder should never be known, and she'd make Lola live with me. In course I agreed to do it. And for a month or two things went on smoothly. I lived with Lola, and we had a little boybaby born, and she seemed so fond o' the child, and so lovin' like, that I agreed to forget and forgive the past. • When the boy was a bit over a month' old, Lady Drummond and. Lola packed off on some mysterious >work, and left me to take care o' him, an' a lively timo I had: When they got back the job I had to do turned up. - Lady Drummond had a baby, and she wanted it murdered. She didn't tell me it was the Earl of Strathspey's baby, but Lola did. She stole it wi her own hands from the room o' the countess, 'fore it were an hour old. I jes tell ye it. made my hair rise when 5 1 hearn what I had to do. But there was no backing out. Lady Drummond had me slick. , -,-S i ' I tuk the baby, ail wrapped-ima quilted, flanneldoak that 'belonged ;to Lola's and "carried it* off to murders it. Good Heaven, I'm sinner- enough, but leouldn't.do that, loviu 1 my own baby, as I did, too. So I made up mind to, take it home* to my old 'father arid; mother. "I. crossed the , Channel with it, ? feedin'it from a bottle, like I'd seen.'Loladoj 9,hd-the, lit&le'.'mite i 'liyecU iyeVsee,^it3Yasn, ; 'fc,lto^ die, jyer\worships • ~ it rhMfsometmng"els'e^to;db.'. ? > " V:/^ /;--,.' • [^The^countess^wassobbing-audibly.v^ ,' * I ' v ' Indeed, 5 yer.lMysbip,' coritmuedßerKit^

' I was tender wi the babe, as if it were my own, and it slept in my arms day and nights r ,^- ",',,- 'But when I got down to the Tyrol, v for the soul of me I-couldn't face the old folks, my money all gone and I a murderer ; so I writes a bit, as we'll as I could — I never did make no great fist at writing — and I rips the lining" o' the baby's cloak and puts it in, and fastens it together agin. Then' I tuk the child, an' left it on top of a cliff, where I knowed the old man would cross it. • Then I hung round, and after awhile, , when I peeps at the baby again, as Heaven hears me, my lords, there be a milch goat a standing over it, and it a sucking for dear life. Then, says I, that child'll be Earl of Strathspey one day, and nothing can hinder, and ye see, yer worships, it's come true. * After that I sees the old folks tug up the cliff, a hunting the goats, and they comes on the child and carries him off, never dreamin' as myself were so near, and they not set eyos on me for seven longyears. 'I went back and told Lady Drummond the job was done, and she believed me. After that big rewards was offered by the earl for his child," and Lady Drumraond and Lola sets to work and they pricks a red cross into our boy's arm, and as soon as it was healed over, Lola takes him and starts down to France, where the earl was. ' I was mortally opposed to it ; but they would have their way, and Lola said our boy would be Earl of Srathspey by-and by, so I let 'em alone. She went wi the child, and staid as its nus, and got a great reward from the earl. ' After that I went to sea agin, and when . I got back I found everything in a flurry. Lady Drummond had found out that the earl's baby was alive, and Lady Strathspey had found out too. I couldn't get the run of it ; bub Lola, she was on the watch — she was determined our boy should be the earl's son. So she follows Lady Strathrspey down to the Tyrol, and steals the boy away from her when she was out walkin'. c She brought him up to Cavendish Manor, and Lady Drummond she swore I should be hung an' our boy should die unless I made way wi the boy this time ; so I tuk him off in the night, and Lola went with me ; but I'd made up my mind that he should live. I did feel as if good luck wouldn't come to my own child if I hurt a hair of his head. ' I brought him across to this cave, and in spite of all Lola said, left him here. I knowed the hermit lived here, and wanted him to find him. Then we goes back to Lady Drummond, and Lola still nurses the earl's boy, and I go to sea a third time. ] Coming home agin, I finds things in a worse muddle than ever. The earl threatening to disown our boy, and he, led on by Lady Drummond — I want ye to understand that, yer worships ; the boy's bad enough, but Lady Drummond led him on to murder his own father, as he thought him to be. ' She laid all the plot for him, and made me take the letter down to Perth, which was to tell him to come to the old Watch Tower. Lola's mother, the old woman, Mother Gwinneth, was livin' in the old ruins, and they led the earl into a trap ; bub a trap for theirselves it turned out to be. 'Ye knows the rest, an' now, your honors, one word more, and I'm done. Don't be too hard on mo and Lola's boy ; if he hadn't been put in a false place he might never a' gone to the bad ; so don't be too hard on, him.' 'He shall not suffer, replied Lord Strathspey, in a choked voice. There needed no further proof or explanation. Lady Strathspey had already told her story— the story of her long imprisonment in a mad-house — dwelling lightly on her sufferings, for her husband's sake, desiring still, in her infinite tenderness, to spare him all possible pain — and her final escape. But the body that was found, drifted ashore by the tide, was not hers ; the grave in the asylum grounds, over which Lord Strathspey had shed such bitter tears of remorse and agony, was not her grave. She was not drowned, but in the precipitancy of her flight she lost her mantle, which being found near the river, strengthened the supposition that she had been swept off the broken bridge by the high waters. Sho succeeded in making her way out of Lancashire; but she was ill and weak, worn out in mind and body, and without money to pay for a night's lodging or a morsel of food. She walked till her feet were bruised and bleeding, and at the end of the second day sat down behind a hedge to pa?s the night. Morning found her ill and delirious ; and it happened that selfsame morning: that the hermit came by, on one of his periodical journeys. He tound the pale but lovely lady lying by the wayside, and like the good Samaritan of old, he administered to her wants. He &ot a carriage, and had her conveyed to a neighbouring farm-house, and called in a physician, and had her properly nursed and cared for. On his return he stopped to inquire after her welfare, and found her entirely recovered, but utterly destitute and friendless. Won by his fatherly kindness, the unfortunate lady confided in him her name and station, and the piteous story of her bitter wrongs; and, incredulous as it seemed, he believed and trusted her, and furnished her with sufficient funds to carry her to France, where she found a home in the old Languedoc Convent. Her son, the young Romulus of the Tyrol, was in Heidelburg at the time, and the old hermit thought it wiser to make no mention of him to the poor countess, as the knowledge of his existence would only increase her sorrow and anxiety. He determined to bide his time, and wait for the working of Providence, little dreaminghow marvellous it would be.