Part 37 (1/2)

'Bear with you! Much enforced, the best tempers will emit a hasty spark,' said the count, looking at Lord Colambre, who was now cool again; and who, with a countenance full of compa.s.sion, sat with his eyes fixed upon the poor--no, not the poor, but the unhappy old man.

'Yes, I had another son,' continued Mr. Reynolds, 'and on him all my affections concentrated when I lost my eldest, and for him I desired to preserve the estate which his mother brought into my family. Since you know nothing of my affairs, let me explain to you; that estate was so settled, that it would have gone to the child, even the daughter of my eldest son, if there had been a legitimate child. But I knew there was no marriage, and I held out firm to my opinion. ”If there was a marriage,” said I, ”show me the marriage certificate, and I will acknowledge the marriage, and acknowledge the child;” but they could not, and I knew they could not; and I kept the estate for my darling boy,' cried the old gentleman, with the exultation of successful positiveness again appearing strong in his physiognomy; but suddenly changing and relaxing, his countenance fell, and he added, 'But now I have no darling boy. What use all!--all must go to the heir-at-law, or I must will it to a stranger--a lady of quality, who has just found out she is my relation--G.o.d knows how--I'm no genealogist--and sends me Irish cheese and Iceland moss, for my breakfast, and her waiting-gentlewoman to namby-pamby me. Oh, I'm sick of it all--see through it--wish I was blind--wish I had a hiding-place, where flatterers could not find me--pursued, chased--must change my lodgings again to-morrow--will, will--I beg your pardon, gentlemen, again; you were going to tell me, sir, something more of my eldest son; and how I was led away from the subject, I don't know; but I meant only to have a.s.sured you that his memory was dear to me, till I was so tormented about that unfortunate affair of his pretended marriage, that at length I hated to hear him named; but the heir-at-law, at last, will triumph over me.'

'No, my good sir, not if you triumph over yourself, and do justice,'

cried Lord Colambre; 'if you listen to the truth, which my friend will tell you, and if you will read and believe the confirmation of it, under your son's own hand, in this packet.'

'His own hand indeed! His seal unbroken. But how--when where--why was it kept so long, and how came it into your hands?'

Count O'Halloran told Mr. Reynolds that the packet had been given to him by Captain Reynolds on his deathbed; related the dying acknowledgment which Captain Reynolds had made of his marriage; and gave an account of the delivery of the packet to the amba.s.sador, who had promised to transmit it faithfully. Lord Colambre told the manner in which it had been mislaid, and at last recovered from among the deceased amba.s.sador's papers. The father still gazed at the direction, and re-examined the seals.

'My son's handwriting--my son's seals! But where is the certificate of the marriage?' repeated he; 'if it is withinside of this packet, I have done great IN--but I am convinced it never was a marriage. 'Yet I wish now it could be proved--only, in that case, I have for years done great--'

'Won't you open the packet, sir?' said Lord Colambre. Mr. Reynolds looked up at him with a look that said, 'I don't clearly know what interest you have in all this.' But, unable to speak, and his hands trembling so that he could scarcely break the seals, he tore off the cover, laid the papers before him, sat down, and took breath. Lord Colambre, however impatient, had now too much humanity to hurry the old gentleman; he only ran for the spectacles, which he espied on the chimney-piece, rubbed them bright, and held them ready. Mr. Reynolds stretched his hand out for them, put them on, and the first paper he opened was the certificate of the marriage; he read it aloud, and, putting it down, said--

'Now I acknowledge the marriage. I always said, if there is a marriage there must be a certificate. And you see now there is a certificate I acknowledge the marriage.'

'And now,' cried Lord Colambre, 'I am happy, positively happy.

Acknowledge your grand-daughter, sir--acknowledge Miss Nugent.'

'Acknowledge who, sir?'

'Acknowledge Miss Reynolds--your grand-daughter; I ask no more--do what you will with your fortune.'

'Oh, now I understand--I begin to understand this young gentleman is in love--but where is my grand-daughter?--how shall I know she is my grand-daughter? I have not heard of her since she was an infant--I forgot her existence--I have done her great injustice.'

'She knows nothing of it, sir,' said Lord Colambre, who now entered into a full explanation of Miss Nugent's history, and of her connexion with his family, and of his own attachment to her; concluding the whole by a.s.suring Mr. Reynolds that his grand-daughter had every virtue under heaven. 'And as to your fortune, sir, I know that she will, as I do, say--'

'No matter what she will say,' interrupted old Reynolds; 'where is she?

When I see her, I shall hear what she says. Tell me where she is let me see her. I long to see whether there is any likeness to her poor father.

Where is she? Let me see her immediately.'

'She is one hundred and sixty miles off, sir, at Buxton.'

'Well, my lord, and what is a hundred and sixty miles? I suppose you think I can't stir from my chair, but you are mistaken. I think nothing of a journey of a hundred and sixty miles--I'm ready to set off to-morrow--this instant.'

Lord Colambre said, that he was sure Miss Reynolds would obey her grandfather's slightest summons, as it was her duty to do, and would be with him as soon as possible, if this would be more agreeable to him. 'I will write to her instantly,' said his lords.h.i.+p, 'if you will commission me.'

'No, my lord, I do not commission--I will go--I think nothing, I say, of a journey of a hundred and sixty miles--I'll go--and set out to-morrow morning.'

Lord Colambre and the count, perfectly satisfied with the result of their visit, now thought it best to leave old Reynolds at liberty to rest himself, after so many strong and varied feelings. They paid their parting compliments, settled the time for the next day's journey, and were just going to quit the room when Lord Colambre heard in the pa.s.sage a well-known voice the voice of Mrs. Pet.i.to.

'Oh no, my compliments, and my Lady Dashfort's best compliments, and I will call again.'

'No, no,' cried old Reynolds, pulling his bell; 'I'll have no calling again--I'll be hanged if I do! Let her in now, and I'll see her--Jack!

let in that woman now or never.'

'The lady's gone, sir, out of the street door.'

'After her, then--now or never, tell her.'