SONS AND FATHERS.

Press, Volume LV, Issue 10012, 16 April 1898, Page 2

SONS AND FATHERS.

By Harry Sxuxvrsu« EdwabHs. CHAPTER XXXV.—The Gbavs in tm Past. When Colonel Montjoy rode over to General Evan's, a few mornings «ffcr- ! tke operation upon his wife's eyes, it was with but ill-defined notions of what he would say or what would be the result of the interviews Circumstances had placwi him in a strange and unpleasant position The times were such that to raise money was next to impossible. The southern planter who is dependent upon his farming operations is obliged to mortgage everything, and his business in never sufficiently capitalised. Whatever the system he may work under, the demand for money is greater than he can supply. Colonel Monljoy felt that the Paris trip could not be well avoided. He realised that the chances of accomplishing any real good for his wife were very small, but Dr. Campbell had distinctly favoured it. and the hesitancy had evidently only been on account of the cost. He felt that intuitively.

But could he accept the generous offer made by Morgan? That was the embarrassing question. He was not mentally blind ; he felt assured that the real question for him ts» decide then was what he should answer when a demand for the hand of his daughter was made. For in accepting the loan and escort of Edward Morgan, he accepted him. Could he do this?

•So far avthe rumours Rbont the young man were concerned, he never entertained them seriously. He regarded them only as a desperate political move, and so did the public geiK-ntliy. Moreover, he had been informed of tEe authorship, and that itself was sufficient. But a shadow ought not to hang over the life of his daughter. The old general was at home, and partially read his visitor's predicament in his face as ho approached the verandah. They had been companions fifty years, and there were few secrets between them.

"Come in, Norton, , ' he said, without moving from his great rocker. "What is troubling you'/" And he laughed maliciously. 'But, by the way," he added, "how is the madam to-day tj~ Mary told mc yesterday she was getting* along finely." ■"Well, we can't tell, Evan," said his visitor, drawing his chair next to the rail; "we can't tell. In fact, nothing will be known until the bandages are removed. I came off without my tooaccc " He was holding his-pips. 'The gsaaral passed him his box. "Oh, well, site can't but come through all right. Campbell is never mistaken."

'"That is true; and that is what troubles inc. Campbell predicts a return of the trouble, and thinks in the near future her only chance for vision will lie in the eye which has been blind for several years. He has little hope of that, but is willing to admit that Moreau, in i'aris, is better authority, and would be glad for Caroline to see him and have his opinion."

"All, indeed!" It was expressive. The colonel knew that Evan comprehended the situation, if not the whole of it. If there had been any doubt, it would have been dispelled. " A great expense, Norton, in these "days, but it must be attended to." Colonel Montjoy ran his hand through his hair and passed it over his brow nervously. "The trouble is, Evan, the matter has been attended to, and too easily.- Edward Morgan was present during the operation, and has offered to lend mc all the money necessary for the trip, with or without security, and with or without interest." The general shook villi silent laughter, and succeeded in getting enough smoke down his throat to induce a disguising cough. "That is a trouble, Norton, that hasn't afflicted us old fellows much of late—extra ease in money matters. Edward is rich, and will not be. in any way embarrassed by a small matter like this. I think you will do well to make it a business transaction, and accept." "You do not understand. I have noticed marked, attentions to Mary on the part of the young man; and Mary," he said sadly, "is, I am afraid, interested in him." "That is different,' said the general, with resolute gravity, "very different. Before you decide on accepting this offer, you feel that you must decide on the young man himself? I see. What do you think t" "I haven't been able to, think intelligently, lam afraid, upon that pmiiti What do you think,' Evan? Mary is. about as much your property as mine." "I think," said the general, throwing off his disguise, "that in Edward Morgan she will get the only man I ever saw to whom I would be willing, to give her up. He is as straight and as brave as any man who ever followed mc into battle." Montjoy was silent awhile. "You know," he said presently, "that I value yoiu , opinion more than any man's, and I do not wish to express or to intimate a doubt of Mr Morgan, who, I see, has impressed you. I believe the letter of Royson's was infamous and untrue in every respect, but it has been published—and it is my daughter. Why in the name of common sense hasn't he come to mc and given mc something to go upon." "It has occurred to mc," said the general dryly, "that he will do so when he comes for Mary. In the meantime, a man isn't called upon to travel with a family tree under his arm and show it to everyone who questions him. Morgan is a gentleman, sans peur et sans reproche. If he is not, Ido not know the breed."

"So far as the charge of Rqyson is concerned," continued the general, "let mc calm your mind on that point. I have never entered upon this matter with you because the mistakes of a man's kindred are things he has no right to gossip about, even among friends. These things get out sometimes, and people judge not only families but communities by them. The woman, Rita Morgan, has alvrays been free; she •was given her freedom in infancy by John Morgan's father. Her mother's history is an unfortunate one. It is enough to say that she was sent out from Virginia with John Morgan's mother, who was, you know, a blood relative of mine; and I know that this woman was sent away with an object. She looked confoundedly like some of the family. Well, John Morgan's father was wild; you can giicss the result. "Rita lived in her own house, and when her husband died John took her to his home. He told mc so once in so many words that his father left instructions outside his will to that effect, and that Rita's claims upon the old man were about the same as his. You see from this that the Roy son story is an absurdity. I knew it when I went in and vouched for our young friend, and I would have proved it to Thomas the night he culled, but Rita dropped dead that day." Mont joy drew a deep breath. ; "You astonish mc," he said, "and relieve mc greatly. I had never heard this. I did not really doubt, but you have cleared up all possibility of error."

■'Nor has any.other man hesrd the story. My conversation with John Morgan grew out of his offer to buy of mc Alec, a very handsome mulatto man I owned, to whom Rita had taken a fancy. He wanted to buy him and free him, but I had never bought or sitld a slave, and could not bring myself to accept money for Alae. I freed him myself. John was not willing for her to many a slave. They were married, aud he died in less than a" year. That is Rita's history. When Alec died Piita went to John Morgan and kept house for him.

"When it was that Gerald came in I do not know," pursued the general musingly.* "The boy was nearly grown before I heard of him. He and Edward are children of distant relatives, I am told- John never saw the latter at all, probably, but educated him. and, finding Gerald incapacitated, very wisely left his property to the other, with Gerald in his charge. " Fill up your pipe; this is some tobacco a Virginia cousin of mine sent mc. Nothing equals Virginia tobacco, though advertising sells more of the other kind.

"No' I have taken the greatest fancy to these two young fellows, although I only have known one a few weeks, and the other by sight and reputation." He paused a moment, as though his careless tones had desecrated a sacred scene; the face of the sleeper rose to his mind. "But they are game and thoroughbreds. I would accept the proposition; in fact, lam afraid you hive no choice in the matter; accept it and shut your eyes to the future. It will all work out rightly." Montjoy shook bis head sadly. "I will accept it," he said, "but only because it means a chance for Caroline which otherwise she would not have. . Of course you know that Mary is going with

* Copyright.—This etory-out of 816 oompetiwt was awarded the FIRST PEIZE-lO.OOOdols (£3000)----in the Ohioago Jlecor&'a "30.000d01s to Authort " Composition, tor tht bttt" itocM ot mystery."

her, and Morgan is t« be their escort?" The general uttered »»rolonged whistle, and then laughed. "Well, confound the little darling, to think she should come over here and tell mc all the arrangements, and leave herself oit; Montjoy, that is the only one of your family born without grit; tell her so. Ske is afraid of one old man's tongue." Edward'e buggy was approaching rapidly and the flusheji and happy face of the girl could be seen within. "Plotting against me,' «be called out, as she descended, "and I dare you to own it. ,. The General said— * "On the contrary, I was about telling your father what a brave little woman you are. Come in, Mr Morgan," he added, seeing from her blushes that she understood him. "Mr Morgan was coining over to see the General," said Mary, "and I came with him to ride back with papa.' "Then." said the Colonel,-"we will start right away." And. despite the protests of all the others, he presently got Mary into the buggy and carried her off. "You will stop as you come by. Mr Morgan," he called out. "1 will be glad to see you on a matter of business."

The buggy was yet in sight when Edward turned to his old friend and said: —

'•Oi'enerai Kvan, I have come to make a statement to you. based upon long reflection and a sense of justice. lam about to leave the Kin to for Fiance, and may never return. There are matters connected with my family which I feel you should know, and I prefer to speak rather than write them." He j>aiis?il to collect Ins thoughts, the General looking straight ahead and recalling the conversation he had just had with Colonel Montjoy. "If 1 seem to trespass on forbidden grounds or stir unpleasant memories, I trust you will hear mc through before condemning mc. Many years ago you lost a daughter " * . "Go on." said thg*General, as Edward paused and looked doubtfully toward him. "She was to have married my uncle, 1 am informed, but she did not. On the contrary, she married a foreigner—her music teacher. Is this not true?" "Go on." "She went abroad, but unknown to ( you she came back and her child was born." "Ah!" The sound that came from the old man's lips was almost a gasp. For the first time since the recital was begun he turned his eyes upon his companion. He did not command the speaker again to proceed; he simply waited, slowly straightening in his chair. "At this birth, which took place probably at Ilexhurst, possibly in the abuse of Rita Morgan, whose death yo\i know of, occurred the birth of Rita's child also. Your daughter disappeared. Rita was delirious, and when she recovered could not be convinced that this child was not her own; and she thought him her son until the day of her death." s "Where is this child? Why was I not informed?" The old General's voice was hoarse and his words scarcely audible. Edward looking him full in the face replied: — "At Ilexhurst! His name, as we know it, is Gerald Morgan." Evan, who had half risen, sunk back in his chair. The momentous information had totally unnerved him. He seemed to feel that it was necessary for him to speak. "And this is your belief, Mr Morgan?" "That is the fact, as the weight of evidence declares. The woman in health , did not claim Gerald for her son. In the moment of her death she cried out: 'They lied!'- This is what you heard in the yard and I repeated it at that time. I was, as you know, labouring under great excitement. There is a picture of yonr daughter at Ilexhurst, and the resemblance is strong. You yourself were struck with the family resemblance.

"This is the best summing up of the case so far as it relates to him, that I can give you. I felt it my duty to speak, even at the risk of appearing to trespass upon your best feelings. I had only this to say; it affects you greatly. Consider it until we meet again. You were my friend when I needed friends, and had I concealed this I wouiu have been ungrateful." Edward rose but the General, without looking up, laid his hand upon his arm. "Sit down, Mr Morgan. I thank you. You could not have done less. But give mc time to realise what this means. If you a*e correct I have a grandson at Hexhurst"—Edward bowed my datrghter abandoned to the care of a servant." Again Morgan bowed, but by the faintest motion of his head.

"I did hot say abandoned," he corrected. * "It cannot be true," said the old man; "it cannot be true, fcfhe was a good girl and even infatuation woud not have changed her character. She would have come back to mc." ■ '

"If she could," said Edward. He told him the story of the unfinished manuscript and the picture drawn by Gerald. He was determined to tell him all, except as related to himself. That was his own and Virdow's secret. "If that story is true, she may not have been able to get to you; and then the war came on: you must know all before you can judge." The old soldier was silent. He got up with apparent difficulty, and said formally, "Mr Morgan, I will be glad to have you join mc in a glass of wine. lam not as vigorous as I may appear, and this is my time o' day. Come in." Edward noticed that, as he followed, the General's form had lost something of its martial air. No words were exchanged over the little southern ceremoray. The General merely lifted his glass slightly and bowed.. The room was cool and dark. He motioned Edward to a rocker, and sunk into his leather-covered easy-chair. There was a minute's silence broken by the elder man. "What is your belief, Mr Morgan, as to Gerald?" ; :.

,J The facts as stated are all—— * "Nevertheless, as man to man—your belief."

"Then, in my , opinion, the evidence points to Gerald as the child of this woman Rita. I am sure also that it is his own belief. The only disturbing evidence is the likeness, but Virdow that the children of servants very frequently bear likeness to a mistress. The circumstances in this case may have made it easier. It ie a delicate question, but all of our ancestors were not immaculate. Is there anything in the ancestry of Rita Morgan—is there any reason why her child should bear a likeness to—

The General lifted his hand in warning. But he said, "What became of the other child?'" The question did not disturb or surprise the young man. He expected that it would be asked. It was natural. Yet, prepared as he was, his voice was unsteady, when he replied: "That I do not know." "You do not know i" The General's tone of voice was peculiar. Did he doubt? Edward repeated his statement, almost vehemently. The old man looked at him curiously. "I had two objects in view when I brought trp this subject." said Edward, when the silence grew embarrassing; "one was to acquaint you «ith the possibilities out at Tlexburst, and to ask your good offices for Gerald in the event my absence is prolonged, or any necessity for assistance should arise. The other is to find the second "child if it is /living, and determine Gerald's status; and. wiih this as my main object, I venture, to ask yon if, since her disappearance, you have ever heard of Marion Evan?" "God help mc," said Evan, brokenly: 'yes. But it was too soon, too soon; * I could not forgive her!" "And since then?" The oM man moved his hand slowly, and let it fali. "Silence—oblivion." "Can you give mc the name of her husband?" Without reply, the veteran went to the secretary, and took from a pigeonhole a well-worn letter. "No eye but mine has ever read these lines,"he* said, simply. "I do not fear to trust them to you! Read 1 I cannot now!" Edward's hand trembled as he received the papers. If Rita Morgan spoke the truth, lie was about to look upon lines traced by bis mother's hand- It was like a message from the dead. CHAPTER XXXVI.—The Pledge that ■was Given. Edward opened the letter with deep emotion. The handwriting was small and unformed, the writing of a schoolgirl. It read— •■' ■' -;. ■•"'.'-■ "January 3rd, 1&-. My Darling Papa: When you read this I will be far away upon the ocean, and separated from you by cir-i cumstances compared with which leagues are but trifles. You probably kr.ow them by telegram before now, bat I cannot leave you and my native land without a farewell. Papa, I am now the wife of an honourable, loving man, and happy as I could be while remembering yon and your loneliness. Why

I have done this, why I have taken this st*y without coining to you first, aM letting you decide, I can love my husband ns I have never loved before; that I have his Whole affection? that he wanted mc to go with him blindly, ai\d that I have obeyed. That is all. There is no ingratitude in my heart, no lessening of affection for you; you still are to mc the one man in my old world •, but my Iwsband had come in and made a new world of it all, and I am his. You will blame mc, I am afraid, and perhaps disown mc; if so,' God is merciful to women who suffer for those they love. I would lay down my life for Gaspard; I have lain* down every thing dear to life. We go to his childhood's home in SiUsia, where, with the money he has saved, and with his divine art, we hope to be happy and face the world without fear. Oh, papa, if you could forgive mc; if you could remember your own ~ love for that beautiful mamma of whom you never tired telling, and who. I am sure, is near mc now; if you could remembev and forgive mc, the world would hold nothing that I would exchange a thought for. Gaspard is noble and manly. You would admire him, and he would adore you, as do I, your only child. Papa, you will write to mc": a father can never forsake his child. If I am wrong, you cannot forsake mc; if lam right, yon cannot. There is no arrangement in all God's providence for suck a contingency, and Christ did not turn even from the woman whom others would stone. Can you turn from mc, when if I have erred it is through the divine instinct that God has given mc? No.' You cannot, you will not! If 3-011 could, you would not have been the noble, patient, brave man whom all men love. Write at once and forgive and bless your child. "Marion."' On a separate slip, pinned to the letter •was — "My address will be Mrs Gaspard Levigne, Breslau, Silesia. If we change soon, I will write to you. God bless and care for you. "M." Edward gently replaced the faded letter upon the table; his eyes were wet and his voice changed and unnatural. "You did not write?" The general shook his head. "You did not write?" Edward repeated the,^question; time his voice almost agonised in the weight of emotion. Again the old general shook his head, fearing to trust his voice. Ihe young man gazed upon him long and curiously, and was silent. "I wrote five years later," said Evan, presently. "It was the best I could do. You candot judge the ante-bellum southern planter by him of to-day. I was a king in those times! I had ambition. • I looked to the future of my child and my family! All was lost; all perished in the act of a foolish girl, infatuated witk a music .master. I can forgive now, but over mc have rolled waves enough in thirty years to wear away stone. The war came on; I earned that letter from Manassas to Appomattox, and then I wrote. I set enquiries afoot through consuls abroad. No voice has ever risen from the silence. My clu»u is dead."

"Perhaps not, said Edward, gently; "perhaps not. If there is any genius in European detective bureaus that money can command, we will know —we will know." "If she lived she would have written. I cannot get round that. I know my child. It was the trueness of her heart that led her off. -It could not remain silent nearly thirty years." "Unless silenced by circumstances over which she has no control." old man searched for a hidden meaning in the word. 1, 1 have been thinking much during my stay in this country," continued Edward, "and every side of this matter has presented itself to mc. Your daughter had one firm, unchanging friend—my uncle, John Morgan. Hβ has kept her secret —perhaps her child. Is it not possible that he has known of her existence somewhere; that she has been all along informed of the condition and welfare of the child—and of you?" Evan did not reply; he was intently studying the young man. "John offered to find her a year after she was gone. He came and pleaded for her, but I gave him conditions and he came no more."

"It is not only possible that she lives," said .Edward, put probable., And it is certain that if 3 ohn Morgan knew of her existence, and "then that she had passed away, that all pledges would have been suppended in the presence of a father's right to know tuat his child was dead. There is much more, which I think it best not to enter upon now, but some day you shall know afi. Igo to unravel the mystery. I begin to feel that I will succeed; for now, for the first time, I have a starting point. I have name and address." He thanked his host for the letter, and took down the information in his memorandum book.

"The name and address will avail you nothing," said the General sadly. Edward prepared to take his departure, when Evan, throwing off his mood, stood before him, thoughtful and distressed. "Say it," said Edward, bravely, reading a change in the franfc face.' "One moment, and I will bid you farewell and God-speed." He laid his hand upon Edward's shoulder, and fixed a penetrating gaze, upon him. "Young man, my affairs can wait, but yours cannot. I have no questions to ask of yourself;' you came among us and earned our gratitude. In time of trouble I stood by you. It was upon my vouching personally for your gentility that your challenge was accepted. We went upon the field together; your cause became mine. Now this; I have yet a daughter, the young woman whom you love—not a word now—she is the pride and idol of two old men. She is well disposed toward you* and ybu are on the point of going upon a journey in her company under circumstances that place her at a disadvantage. I charge you that it is not honourable to take advantage of this to win from her a declaration or promise of any kind, Man to man, is it not true?" "It is true," said Edward, turning pale, but meeting his gaze fearlessly. "It is so .true that I may tell you now that from my lips no word of love has ever passed to her; that if ever I do speak to her upon that subject it will be while she is here, among her own- people, and free from influences, .that would bias her decision unfairly. I will say no morfe, General woman who Peonies to mc as ray wife must come through such influences as an honest ? heart and honourable mind can exert—these and nothing more." The hands of the two men met impulsively. A new light shone in the face of the old soldier. ■ v- . "I vouched for you, and if I erred, then there is no more faith to be put in manhood, for if you be not a true man I never have seen one. Go and do your best for Gerald —and for mc. I must reflect upon these matters —I must reflect! As yet their full import has failed mc. .. You must send mc tne manuscript." He relaxed his grasp upon the hand of his guest, and with a courtly salute dismissed him.

Deeply impressed and touched, Edward withdrew. The task was finished. It had been a delicate and trying one for him. He felt that it had cost bim something; a great deal, perhaps, but he did not regret it-.

At the hall, toward went with Mary into the darkened room, and took the little mother's hand in his, and sat beside her to tell of the proposed journey. He pictured vividly the scenes to be enjoyed, and life in the gay capital, and all as a certainty fur her. She did not doubt; Dr. Campbell had promised sight; it would return. But this journey, the expense, they could not afford it.

But Mary came to the rescue there; her f ataer had told her he was entirely able to bear the expense, and she was satisfied. however, did not deceive the mother, who was perfectly familiar with the family finances. She knitted away in discreet silence, biding her time. The business to which Col. Montjoy had referred was soon finished. He formally accepted the very opportune offer, and wished to know when they should meet in the city to arrange papers. To this Edward 6b-.. jected, suggesting that he would keep an accurate account of expenses incurred, and arrange papers on his return, and to this, the only reasonable arrangement possible, CoL Mo'ntjoy acceded. One more incident closed the day. Edward had nearly reached the city, when lie came -upon a boggy by, the roadside, drawn up in the shade of a tree. His own animal, somewhat jaded, was leisurely walk--ing, while he gave rein to a much more' active imagination. Their approach was practically noiseless, and he was alongside the vehicle before either of the two occupants looked up. He saw them both start violently, and the face of tto man flushed

[ quickly, a scar upon the nose becoming at once crimson. They were Royeon and bia cousin. Greatly pained and embarrassed Edward was at a loss how to act, but un consciously he lilted his hat, with ceremonious politeness. Royson did not respond but Annie, with more presence of mind' smiled sweetly and bowed. This surprised him. She had studiously avoided meeting him at the hall. 6 lhe message of Mary, "Royson is your enemy," flashed upon him. He had felt intuitively the enmity of the woman. Ww this clandestine interview, and to what did it tend? He knew in after days. Arriving at home he found Virdotr writing in the library and forbore to dig. turb him. Gerald was slumbering in the glass-room, his deep breathing betraying the cause. Edward went to the little room upstairs to secure the manuscript, and pre. Sire it for sending it to General Evan*, pening the desk, he was surprised to see that the document was not where he placed it. A search developed it under all the fragmentary manuscript, and he was about .to enclose it in an envelope when he noticed that the pages were reversed. The last reader had not slipped the pages one under another in handling, but had placed then one oh another, probably upon the desk thus bringing t;he last page on top. ' ' It is surprising now sometimes tW memory fails in important matters, and retains with vivid clearness the smallest trifles, Edward remembered at that moment thai in reading the manuscript he had carefully replaced each page in its proper position, and had le(t the package on top of all'"" , others. Who could have disturbed them? Not Virdow, and there was none else h»t Gerald! * He laid aside the package and reflected. Ox what use could this unexplained manu. script be to Gerald? None that he could imagine, and yet only Gerald could UaW moved it. Greatly annoyed, he restored the leaves and placed them in an envelope. He was still thinking of the singular discovery he had made, and idly glancing over the o titer fragments, wl«en from one of " them fell a newspaper clipping. He wouW not in all probability have read it through, but the name "Gaspard/ , so recently Uα'. pressed upon his mind, caught his eye. The clipping was printed in French, and was headed "From our Vienna correspondent." Translated, it read as follows: — "To-day began the trial of Leon Gaspard, for the murder of Otto Schwartz, in this city, on the 18th ult. The case attracts considerable attention, because of the ftuit that Gaspard has been for a'week playing first violin in the orchestra of,the Imperial, Theatre, where he has won many admirers, and because of the peculiar circumstances of the case. Schwartz was a stranger, and came to this city only upon the day of hiij death. It seems that Gaspard, so it is charged, some years previously, had deserted a sister gf Schwartz, after a mock marriage, but this he denies. The men met in a cafe, and a scufile ensued, during which Scliwartz was staboed to the heart and hv< stoutly killed. Gaspard claims that he had been repeatedly threatened by letter, and that Schwartz came to Vienna to kill him, and that he (Schwartz) struck the first

blow. He had upon his face a slight cut, inflicted, he claims, by a seal ring worn by Schwartz. Bystanders did not see the blow, and Schwartz had no weapons upon his. body. Gaspard declares that he saw a knife in the dead man's hand, and that it wajs picked up and concealed by a stranger, woq accompanied him into the cafe. Unless hV can produce the threatening letters, and find witnesses to prove the knife incident, the trial will go hard witn him." Another clue! And the husband ol Marion .Evan was a murderer! Who sent that clipping to John Morgan? Probably a detective bureau. Edward folded it sadly, and gave it a place by tlie memoranda he. had written in his notebook. , (To be continued.) .'.