Part 39 (1/2)
”This is news, indeed,” said I, handing the letter to Timothy. ”It must have been my threatening letter which has driven him to this mad act.”
”Very likely,” replied Timothy; ”but it was the best thing the scoundrel could do, after all.”
”The letter was not, however, written, with that intention. I wished to frighten him, and have justice done to little Fleta--poor child! how glad I shall be to see her!”
PART TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
ANOTHER INVESTIGATION RELATIVE TO A CHILD, WHICH, IN THE SAME WAY AS THE FORMER ONE, ENDS BY THE LADY GOING OFF IN A FIT.
The next day the newspapers contained a paragraph, in which Sir Henry de Clare was stated to have committed suicide. No reason could be a.s.signed for this rash act, was the winding up of the intelligence. I also received another letter from Kathleen McShane, confirming the previous accounts: her mother had been sent for to a.s.sist in laying out the body.
There was now no further doubt, and as soon as I could venture out, I hastened to the proper office, where I read the will of the late Sir William. It was very short, merely disposing of his personal property to his wife, and a few legacies; for, as I discovered, only a small portion of the estates were entailed with the t.i.tle, and the remainder was not only to the heirs male, but the eldest female, should there be no male heir, with the proviso, that should she marry, the husband was to take upon himself the name of De Clare. Here, then, was the mystery explained, and why Melchior had stolen away his brother's child.
Satisfied with my discovery, I determined to leave for England immediately, find out the Dowager Lady de Clare, and put the whole case into the hands of Mr Masterton. Fortunately, Timothy had money with him sufficient to pay all expenses, and take us to London, or I should have been obliged to wait for remittances, as mine was all expended before I arrived at Dublin. We arrived safe, and I immediately proceeded to my house, where I found Harcourt, who had been in great anxiety about me. The next morning I went to my old legal friend, to whom I communicated all that had happened.
”Well done, Newland,” replied he, after I had finished. ”I'll bet ten to one that you find out your father. Your life already would not make a bad novel. If you continue your hairbreadth adventures in this way, it will be quite interesting.”
Although satisfied in my own mind that I had discovered Fleta's parentage, and anxious to impart the joyful intelligence, I resolved not to see her until everything should be satisfactorily arranged. The residence of the Dowager Lady de Clare was soon discovered by Mr Masterton: it was at Richmond, and thither he and I proceeded. We were ushered into the drawing-room, and, to my delight, upon her entrance, I perceived that it was the same beautiful person in whose ears I had seen the coral and gold ear-rings matching the necklace belonging to Fleta.
I considered it better to allow Mr Masterton to break the subject.
”You are, madam, the widow of the late Sir William de Clare.” The lady bowed. ”You will excuse me, madam, but I have most important reasons for asking you a few questions, which otherwise may appear to be intrusive. Are you aware of the death of his brother, Sir Henry de Clare?”
”Indeed I was not,” replied she, ”I seldom look at a paper, and I have long ceased to correspond with anyone in Ireland. May I ask you what occasioned his death?”
”He fell by his own hands, madam.”
Lady de Clare covered up her face. ”G.o.d forgive him!” said she, in a low voice.
”Lady de Clare, upon what terms were your husband and the late Sir Henry? It is important to know.”
”Not on the very best, sir. Indeed, latterly, for years, they never met or spoke: we did not know what had become of him.”
”Were there any grounds for ill-will?”
”Many, sir, on the part of the elder brother; but none on that of Sir Henry, who was treated with every kindness, until he--” Lady de Clare stopped--”until he behaved very ill to him.”
As we afterwards discovered, Henry de Clare had squandered away the small portion left him by his father and had ever after that been liberally supplied by his eldest brother, until he had attempted to seduce Lady de Clare, upon which he was dismissed for ever.
”And now, madam, I must revert to a painful subject. You had a daughter by your marriage?”
”Yes,” replied the lady, with a deep sigh.
”How did you lose her? Pray do not think I am creating this distress on your part without strong reasons.”
”She was playing in the garden, and the nurse, who thought it rather cold, ran in for a minute to get a handkerchief to tie round her neck.
When the nurse returned, the child had disappeared.” Lady de Clare put her handkerchief up to her eyes.
”Where did you find her afterwards?”