DUNLEATH ABBEY; OR, The Fatal Inheritance.

Auckland Star, Volume XXI, Issue 146, 21 June 1890, Page 6

DUNLEATH ABBEY; OR, The Fatal Inheritance.

BY HANSON PENN DILTZ,

Author of' The Duchpes Undjne.'Etc.

CHAPTER XLI.-(Continued.) THE TRUE STORY OF THE PAST. Lord Warnoek moved restleasly aboub, Impatient and troubled in mind. The shadow of evil was on him, prophesying misfortune and danger to his absent, unconscious heir. His aflecGipns, subtle as mercury, were quick to take alarm. ' Zura, I am anxious to hear your story—how my son came to be given to Cuthberb Mortimer, 5 he said. 'It is all dark with mystery, to me. My heart claims Victor as my little child Verner, yet I tremble and fear.' 'My atory i 3 as simple aa truth,' said Zura, her every word fraught with an intensity of interest. 'Cannot ypu understand ? When it was too late to avert the terrible danger threatening you, I chanced to overhear enough conversation between Cuthbert Mortimer and Mahal to know what tlxey were going to do. I knew that you wero to be incarcerated in a mad-house, and that your guiltless wife and child were to be sacrificed to some miserable fate. I saw, "as ittirough a glass darkly," what was to come.i and from that hour I set to work to effect an exchange of your son and Cuthberb Mortimer's. I knew it was a desperate gamos 1 had to play. —Yet I had eet my life upon a cast, And I would stand the hazard of the die ; as in that way only could my lady's child be rescued from a life of privation, end at last inherit the iities aud wealth to which he was born. J was so narrowly watched by my husband and his master's minions —my venture was so fraught •with, peril—that I succeeded ouly because I was doing the vy.ill of Heaven. Yes, fortune favoured me, but at a fearful, cost. The Princess Sinda died, .and.knopling beside her shrouded form, I registered a vow to sava her child fro.m ,tb,o fangs of the destroyer and see it some day restored to its rights. It was then and there that my wand/eriug thoughts took shape,, and the way was opened before me as by the hand of Heaven. Having bub a little while'to act in, I went a once to Mortimoi-'s wife, the lovely ■ AngloIndian Zillah, whom I felfo that I could trust. After swearing her to secrecypoor, persecuted lady !— I told her' that .she was to be robbed of her child. But ho could be saved if she was willing,* to help me practise a deception. Her agouised tears were her response. Thus was another obstacle removed from my path. Then the little Verner was much the larger child for his age—he was aa large at two days old as ■waa Mortimer's at two weeks. The arrangements were at last made for the exchange of the children, to be effected that night. My heart beat high with hope. There was only one source of uneasi»ess, one thing that could lead to exposure. There were three tiny moles in triangular form upon one of little Verner'a shoulders— •Ah! , The interjection, low-spoken but full of meaning, came from the earl, who, since Zura began her narration, had been listening in breathless interest. Every eye in the room waa directed toward him. , , • Woman,' he cried, and his glance seemed to consume the Hindoo like flame as he addressed her, • before God you are speaking the truth. You tell'me that he who is known as Victor Mortimer is my eon ? If, when he fe found, this eingular mark should not be on his shoolder—ah, cannot you see our miserable dilemma?—plunged in doubb and uncertainty more cruel than ever !' • There can be no mistake, my lord,' replied Zura. 'Here i 3 a witness to the marks being upon your eon, known as Victor Mortimer. , And she pointed to her mother. _ • 'Yes, If»aw the moles often when Victor ■was a child,'said'Rannie. . , •Strange that Mortimer never noticed them, , declared the earl. • I did——' ; •You ?' cried mother and daughter in a breath. „ •Yes,. I saw them the day following Verner'e birth, , continued Lord Cecil. • Then jusb before I was stricken down, I happened to look a aeqond time, whec, as you must know, I found only the one mole, but I was in such distress that I thought I ■was mistaken. I remembered the mole, and had Verner show me his shoulder one day. There was the mark, that I had every reason to believe my son bore—— • The mark thatnowgives testimony strong as Holy Writ to my story, , declared £ura. •I am glad you noticed these distinguishing marks. It seta at rest every doubt in your mind for ever. When the true Verner is restored to you, you will know ib is your very own son you hold m your anna. But tp con tip ue my narritive—it was at this juncture that you were stricken down with a maligDant brain fever, on the second day, I think, following the exchange of the children. Now, the only persons I had to fear were Mortimer and Mahal. You were in too great distress to notice what was going on before you. As luck would have io, my husband was away on the night that .the exchange was effected. The children wer? left where they were easy of access by me. I managed to drug the women in whose care they had been left. Taking Mortimer's child; I went unseen to the chamber in which the little Verner lay asleep. Once there, it waa but toe work of a moment to exchange the chiidren'sclotfaea, '' My darling," I murmured to Verner, "they shall not rob you of your rightful.heritage." Yet I realised even then that I was running a terrible risk, and placing him in a position that might in pertain contingencies e ntai * untold misery on his head. Suppose Mor timer should give up bis scheme, an,d I should have no opportunity for changing the children back again? My fatal error would have to stand. But I was doing tho will of God, and He has seen me to the end. The children's plotfaing,once changed, it was the work of a moment to place Mortimer's infant m Verner'u cradle, and taking- Verner in my arms I hastened back to Zillah and laid him on her 5 Soon after, thie Mortimer eeb out lor Calcutta en route to England Aβ you know, you were left on a bed of burning feveir, in charge of Mahal, and I accompanied the remains <?f my dead lady. # I had 3aken an oath of secrecy, to never divulge the plot that was' sending Mortimer to England as Cecil, Earl of Dunleath. In Calcutta I *efc my mother, whom I prevailed upon to leave land to watebover the interests of Veriaer or Victor, as be was called by Moitinier. I dared nob leave India,, and I 'dared not divulge mysecret to my mother ':•* Mortimer will die ,ere long, I said to m y e ef "and the son of the real Earl of ffleath will succeed to thetitle tha*is jusSy Ms- Thus will the wrong done io-day be righted." So I reasoned, my lord. I pitied, but in your case was powerless to save. I always; had an abiding belief that I should day be abetosayt-oyoß that when Mortimer set SSb for England, in the guise fl£g£&£ waa your son-and nob bis he took eonaud.heir.' ( :

_ Silence followed the close of Zura's narrative—broken only by the sound of music or the murmur of voices from afar where the wedding guests were dispersing to thenchambers. Lord Cecil stood aa he bad since the Hindoo began, with a look of pain on his pale face, and his heart in 'a tumult, of conflicting emotions—rapture that Victor and not Ge'naJdine Chevasney was his son, mingled with anguish and remorse lor the shameful part; he had unconsciously played in driving that eon out from the house of his anceators.into the ' wide, wide world.' ' Oh, my boy, my boy, would to God I had died ere I ever spoke the cruel words that now rice in judgment against me,' was the cry of his heart. 'My little Verner, child of my sainted Sinda, I looked into his eyes, while my every pulse leaped at tho sound of his voice, yet I know him rot. But he will return at once, and he will forgive me, and be happy, and reign here once more when I am gone.' Mortimer, as hp must hereafter be called who had been known as Chevasney and Verner -Warnoek, had at first sat silent and like one stupefied ; then, rousing himself, he had. gradually withdrawn until he was near the door into the hall by the time Zura had finished the tale that made him an outcast. ~, . , Oid Eannie had never onca moved from the station she had taken up at Zura's side, and her aged and wrinkled face kindled with pride as she thought of her daughter's heroism and self-sacritice. Now, as Zura ceased, her mother murmured words of praise, laying her hand on her shoulder. IMy brave child, my brave child ! but what sorrow might have spared all, bad you only confided in me !' • How could I have .ever dreamed that the things would come to pass that have V replied Zura. ' That Lord Cecil has lived through all he has is a miracle, and had he died in his dungeon, my secret would have died with me. As it is ' ' The sooner the world knows what you have told me the better,' said the earl, in tone* of eager gladness. 'And do you know nothing as to the fate of Cuthbert Mortimer's forsaken wife ?' 1 Nothing definite, my lord. When I returned,to Oude.from Calcutta I made inquiries as to. where sho had- gone, but no one could tell me. She and her child had vanished in a night, and my husband was only awaiting my return to remove your lordship to the asylum.' As he listened, Lord Cecil groaned at the recollection evoked. * Since it is impossible to restore to you a mother's love,' he presently said, addressing Mortimer, 'wo. will befriend you in overy way we can. After believing yourself an earl's son, the change that inner, come to you is a cruel one, ; and I sympathise with you. Dunleath Abbey shall always be open to you, and I will bo your friend. lam sure my eon, when he returns, would not have it otherwise.' There was a tenderneas in the earl's voice that went straight to the heart of the young man he addressed, and for one brief moment filled it with a feeling of contrition for past • sins that waa genuine. Then for the first time did he realise all that he lost in giving up a father's love, and the tears that forced themselves from his eyes and ran down his haggard cheeks strangely moved those who were witnesses to his grief, As he sab thus before him his resemblance to his dead father was so marvellous that Cecil, . Lord Warnoek, could no longer doubt the truth of the story to which he had .listened ; and he groaned aloud as lie seemed to fade into the past, and he almost thought that it was Cuthberb Mortimer in the flesh whoso eyes were raised to hie.