Part 73 (2/2)

Raper and the Countess of Gabriac, an Irishwoman by birth, are expected daily to arrive in this country, and we may look forward to their coming for the elucidation of one of the most curious stories in our domestic annals.

”There is a story current that Lady Hester Stanhope remembers, some years back, a young man having presented himself to Mr. Pitt as the son of the late Walter Carew, and shown certain papers to authenticate his claim; and as the occurrence took place subsequent to the year '95, it is evident that if his pretensions were well founded, there could be no truth in the account of his having fallen in the 'Battle of the Sections.'”

I have no heart to speak of how these pa.s.sages affected me. To hear that my dear mother and Raper still lived; that they not only remembered me, but that their deep devotion to my cause still animated them,--was too much to bear! Bruised, and shattered, and broken down by fortune, this proof of affection kindled the almost dead embers of feeling within me, and I fell upon my knees in thankful prayer to Heaven that I was not deserted nor forgotten! It was no longer rank, and wealth, and riches that glittered before me. I sought for no splendors of fortune or high estate. All that I asked, all that I prayed for, was an honorable name before man, and that love which should once more reconcile me to myself,--lift me from the lonely depths of my isolation, and make a home for me with those to whom I was dear.

”On deck, Gervois,” said the turnkey, arousing me from a deep revery a few days after this interview; ”on deck--here are some strangers want to have a look at ye.”

I slowly followed him up the ladder. I was weak and sickly, but no longer dispirited nor depressed; a faint flickering of hope now burned within me, and I felt that, even to the vulgar stare of curiosity, I could present the steady gaze of one whose vindication might one day be p.r.o.nounced. I had but touched the deck with my foot when I was clasped in a strong embrace, and Polly's voice, as she kissed me, cried, ”My own dear, dear boy; my own long-lost child!”

Raper's arms were around me too; and another that I knew not, a white-haired man, old and sorrow-stricken, but n.o.ble-looking, grasped my hand in his, and said,--

”His father, every inch of him!”

Poor MacNaghten! he had come from fourteen years of imprisonment to devote his first moment of liberty to bless and embrace me.

Oh! you who have known what it is to be rescued from death when every hope of life had left you; who have from the storm-tossed raft watched the sail as it came nearer and nearer, and at last heard the loud cheer that said, ”Be of good courage--a moment more and we will be with you!”--even you, in that moment of blissful agony, cannot sound the depth of emotion which was mine, as, throwing off the stain of the felon, I stood forth in the pride of my guiltlessness, able to say to the world, See how you have wronged me! See how, confounding the weakness and the folly of the human heart with direct and actual criminality, you have suffered the probable or the possible to usurp the place of the inevitably true; have been so carried away by prejudice or by pa.s.sion as to sentence an innocent man!--see, I say, that your judgments are fallible and your tests are weak; and bethink you that all you can do hereafter in atonement of your error can never erase the deep welt of the fetter on his limb, or the more terrible brand that stamped ”guilty” on his name. If you cannot be always just, be sometimes merciful; distrust, at least, the promptings that disposed you to condemn, and say to your heart, ”Good G.o.d, if this man were to prove innocent!”

I am now wealthy and rich. Years of prosperity have rolled over me,--years of tranquil happiness and sincere enjoyment. There is not a day on which I have not to thank Heaven for blessings of health and vigor, for the love of kind hearts, and for the affection of many benevolent natures. I know and I acknowledge that these are more than the recompense of any sorrows I have suffered; and in my daily walk of life I try to aid those who suffer, to console affliction, and to cheer weak-heartedness. The happiness that others seek and find within the circle of their own, I look for in the wider family of mankind, and I am not disappointed.

Polly and Raper live with me. MacNaghten, too, inhabits the old room that once was his. Poor fellow, in his extreme old age he loves every spot that revives a memory of the past, and in his wanderings often calls me ”Walter.”

It remains for me but to say that the singular events which ultimately restored me to my own, attracted the attention of royalty. The various details which came out upon the trial, with the evidence given by the Countess of Gabriac and Raper,--all of which, involving so much already known, I have spared the reader,--so far interested the King that he expressed a desire to see me at Court.

I hastened, of course, to obey the command, and from the royal hand received the honor of knighthood, his Majesty saying, ”We should have made you a baronet, only that it would have been of no use to you, seeing that you are the last of the Carews of Castle Carew.”

Yes, kind reader, and these, too, are our last words to you. Would that anything in these memorials of a life may have served to lighten a weary hour, or softened a moment of suffering; since to the higher purposes of instruction or improvement they lay no claim. At all events, think of me as one too deeply conscious of his own faults to hide or to extenuate them, and too sincerely sensible of his good fortune not to strive to extend its blessings to others.--Adieu!

THE END.

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