How pure the passion of a woman's love—
How innocent the heart that bleeds;
The wretch is worshiped like the saints above
In spite of weaknesses and guilty deeds.
The news of Dr. Seward's mysterious death fell like a thunder bolt upon the household he had left so recently across the water.
Mrs. Sinclair mourned sincerely for the loss of a life long friend, and Stella, for a fatherly counsellor.
For hours after the arrival of the cablegram announcing the physician's death, Sir Frederic paced the floor of his apartments, pondering deeply on a secret which he felt must be shared by none. He was thinking of Dr. Seward's [Pg 219]suspicions as to the parentage of the young man now safely guarded within the ponderous walls of the "Tombs." It had been only a suspicion and now the one human being who knew aught of the matter was silent in the sleep of death.
It was left for him to speak the words which should wound Mrs. Sinclair's faithful heart and destroy forever the sacred memory which was a part of her very being.
It was plain to him that the unhappy prisoner knew nothing of his birth and only suspected Dr. Seward of knowledge on the subject through some recollection of old associations. If this was the case there could be no harm in remaining altogether silent on the subject, but then, when this conclusion was reached, he thought of Lady Van Tyne and her probable knowledge and realized how impossible it would be to conceal the identity of her son from his mother when the question of his parentage was raised, as it must be, during his trial by English law.
Whether Dr. Seward had succeeded in obtaining an interview with Lady Van Tyne before his death, Sir Frederic did not know, and although greatly[Pg 220] distressed, he determined to defer the matter as long as possible as Mrs. Sinclair and Stella were happier now than they had been for many days, not only in their freedom from all supposed relationship to the guilty man, but in the anticipation of a new joy that had recently crept mysteriously within their hearts.
Elizabeth's sorrow was pitiful to behold, but the winds of grief were tempered with kindness, in the fact of her lawful wifehood and the love of her baby girl she found much happiness and comfort.
It was a pleasure to them all one chilly evening as they gathered about the roaring fire, the butler entered and unceremoniously ushered into their presence the jolly old Commander whose story of Maurice Sinclair's death brought them sorrow and rejoicing, and the kindly young officer of the Cunarder whose interest had been the means of so much prosperity to Elizabeth and her child.
"Ha, Ha," laughed the bronzed old Captain as he tossed little Elsa high in the air; "You don't look much as you did on the Steamer, little one. I guess you've anchored in a pleasant port, Ay?"
[Pg 221]
"Indeed we have sir," responded Elizabeth, softly, as she gave her hand to him in greeting.
"Well, well," he continued, looking appreciatively at her rounded cheeks. "'Pon my soul, I never expected to see you looking like this. Here, Mate, look at her red cheeks," he continued gaily, turning to the young officer.
The young man blushed like a girl, for all his manly proportions, as he took Elizabeth's timid hand and bent his head modestly as she said, "I have you to thank for my home and happiness, Mr. Moore. You were the first to think of me when I was lying sick in that dreadful place."
"Indeed, Madam," he answered hurriedly, "it was the Chinaman that mentioned the matter to me, you must not forget him."
"That is so, what became of the Ching Chong, Sir Frederic?" asked the Captain as he lowered himself slowly into the massive rocker by Mrs. Sinclair's side.
Sir Frederic told him briefly of his last interview with Sam Lee and the capture of the imposter, touching as lightly as possible on the facts of the case in deference to Elizabeth's presence, and[Pg 222] both men sat silently and listened with great interest to the recital.
When it was ended the Captain asked anxiously, "Did he give his name or any clue to his identity?"
"He said that Jack Fenton was not his name, although he had been called by that, and only knew himself as an illegitimate child, cast off by his parents and reared by those who were equally ignorant of his birth with himself.
"There is no doubt in my mind, Captain, but that he is the other lad in your story, but you shall see him yourself to-morrow and that will remove the last suspicion of doubt regarding his identity."
"And this Chinaman," continued the Captain, "you say he conversed with him in that heathenish tongue, that in spite of a dozen stops in Chinese ports, I could never make head or tail out of, does he give him a name or know anything of his past?"
Here, Elizabeth rose quietly and making some trivial excuse, passed hastily from the room, but not so quickly but that Stella, who had both felt and seen her uneasiness, immediately joined her outside the door.
[Pg 223]
"Oh, Lady Atherton," Elizabeth cried as Stella drew her closely to her side in mute sympathy when they were alone. "How dreadful it all is. To think that the man I loved and trusted; the father of my darling child, should be nameless, friendless and alone, with sin upon his soul and no one to breathe a word of sympathy in his hour of need. Oh, Lawrie!" she sobbed, "If I could only come to you."
"But, dear Lizzie," whispered Stella, "You must think of yourself and Elsa first of all. You have suffered enough and it can do no possible good for you to go to him. Wait, Lizzie, wait until he is penitent and expresses a wish for his wife's forgiveness."
"Yes, I know that he does not care," cried Elizabeth, "but my heart aches for him and I would gladly forgive all if he would only say that he loved me. Oh, My Husband. You were merciful,—you spared my honor and gave my child a stainless birth when, body and soul, I would have been your slave. Yes, I too, will be merciful," she continued suddenly with a determined voice as she raised her streaming eyes to Stella's face.
[Pg 224]
"Let me go to him, dear Lady Atherton, my place is at my husband's side. Let me plead for him at his trial and bear with him the penalty of his sins."
"Do you love him so dearly, Lizzie?" asked Stella sadly.
"I loved him once—Yes, yes I love him now," she added,—then facing Stella she asked abruptly, "would you not do the same? Would you not cling to him and work for him, if the man you loved was trembling on the verge of awful danger?"
"I don't know," said Stella, doubtfully. Then a proud smile curved her lips and her dark eyes flashed as she added, slowly, "I am afraid, dear, that my love would never stand the test of sin and crime in one I loved. Weakness and error I would shield; I would face danger and bear humiliation, but I feel that I could never endure to blush with shame for a loved one's infamy or drink the dregs of degradation, although pressed to my lips by my husband, himself. No! Lizzie," she said decidedly, "when my lover falls from his pedestal of honor and virtue and descends to the crimes and vices of this earth, I shall cease to love him, and though it tore the weak, fleshy heart from my bosom, I would never voluntarily look upon his face again." There was silence for several moments between the two when she finished speaking, but at last Stella rose and said gently, "Wait here a little and compose yourself, dear, while I return to our friends and when you join us again there shall be nothing said to distress you, for I know," she added roguishly, "the young officer has not come to see either mamma or me and you know Elsa is hardly old enough to receive young gentlemen callers without her mother to act as chaperone."
When Stella returned to the parlor it was as she thought. Her husband had made his guests familiar with Elizabeth's story and she was a little surprised to see the young officer holding Elsa carefully on his knee while his eyes blazed and his features were set in a look of stern resolve that boded no good for the villain of the narrative, should he by any chance cross his path.