Part 45 (1/2)

There was a little start of surprise on my part, and that of Mrs.

Morgan; but we made no interruption, and Lovetree went on with his story. We thought, though, we could not help that.

”I expect he had been drinking hard, for he tore off the bandage from his arm in the night, and when the keeper opened his cell this morning, he found him almost dead with loss of blood and vital prostration. He cannot live. They had aroused him, and I found him quite rational when I went in, and was immediately placed beyond all doubt as to the ident.i.ty of the man, for he called me by name the moment he saw me.”

”I am glad you have come,” said he, ”I can trust you, and I want to make a clean breast of it before I die. My wife and child--my last one--are in this city, and when I am gone, I want you to go and see her, and tell her, that I shall never trouble her any more; she will be glad to hear it, for she saw me last night, and I left the old lady somewhat in a fright. I cannot tell you the exact number, but I can tell you so that you can find the house easy enough. It is in W-- street.”

”Oh, dear, I cannot stand it any longer,” said Mrs. Morgan.

”Cannot stand it? I don't see anything that you cannot stand. You surprise me.”

”Not half as much as you surprise us. We know all about it. It was him,”

and she pointed to me, ”that knocked the ruffian down; it was him that he was about to stab when the watchman broke his arm; and it is she, uncle, Mrs. De Vrai, his wife, who is the mother of Little Katy; now, you know all about it; we know all about it.”

”No, not all, for he told me, that he believed his other wife was in this city, also, married here, and he wanted that I should look her up, too; and tell her where, perhaps, she may find her child.”

”Tell her,” said he, ”that I left it with my brother, near Belfast, an Irish farmer, by the name of William Brentnall.”

”William Brentnall!” said Agnes, her eyes opening with wild surprise.

”I do think,” said Mr. Lovetree, ”that I have lost my senses, or else some of the rest of you have. First, one, and then the other, fairly screams out some exclamation as though I were a conjurer, and you could cot comprehend my words or actions. Have you done now, shall I go on?”

”Yes, yes, uncle; I am dying with curiosity, and as for Agnes, she looks the very picture of wonder.”

”Indeed I feel so.”

”Well, I don't understand why, but I suppose I might as well proceed.

'Tell her,' said he, 'that he is well known and easily found, and that I left the child with him, telling him that it was mine, and that its mother was dead.' Then I was a little surprised, for I thought his name was De Vrai, 'but that,' he said, 'was an a.s.sumed one, the name by which he married the woman that I knew, because he dared not marry her by his own name. Then, I asked him what was her name, who I should look for, and who she should inquire for, to find her child? Then he took a little card out of his pocket, as though he would write her name, and then he seemed to recollect his broken arm, and said, with a groan, 'my writing days are over, and all my days nearly.' Then, he told me, to take the card and write, and so I did, here it is--'this is the mother's name, and this is her daughter's, upon the truth of a dying man--tell her so, beg her to forgive and forget the dead.'”

”What are the names? Do tell us, uncle.”

”Mrs. Meltrand--Agnes Brentnall.”

Now there were at least two screams and one, ”Oh how wonderful!”

Then Agnes said, ”Mrs. Meltrand my mother!--that is wonderful!”

Then Mr. Lovetree looked surprised; all around him seemed to be a ma.s.s of mystery. Others began to see through it, he was now in the dark.

Athalia explained. There was one point that she was not quite clear upon, and she asked her uncle if Agnes was really De Vrai's daughter, or only Mrs. Meltrand's?

”His own. Mrs. Meltrand, was his lawful wife when he married Mrs. De Vrai.”

”Oh my G.o.d! then Agnes is his own child.”

None spoke--what each thought sent a thrill of icy horror to every heart. All groaned or wept, none could speak. There are moments in life of speechless agony, when the mind is completely horrified, when anything that breaks the silence comes as a relief. It came now in the sound of the door bell. It was a messenger to Mr. Lovetree. It brought relief to aching minds. It was very short. It only said, ”he is dead.”

It is perhaps wrong to rejoice at the death of a fellow creature, but we could not feel regret.

After the first flush of excitement was over, a note was written to Agnes's mother, simply stating that if she would call at Mrs. Morgan's at her earliest convenience, she would meet with an individual who could tell her of her long-lost daughter. She made it convenient to come immediately, though it was then ten o'clock at night.

It is not reasonable to suppose that she could keep away till morning, particularly as she had heard a word or two at her first visit which left her mind uneasy.