CHAPTER XXXRUPERT MORRICE MAKES AMENDS
Itwas a very subdued man who, shortly after breakfast, walked into Rosabelle’s sitting-room. It cannot be said that Morrice was in any sense of the words arrogant or overbearing, but his innate strength of mind and character gave him a certain feeling of superiority over ordinary men which reflected itself in his general bearing, the incisiveness of hisutterances, the vigour of his gestures, as he talked. To-day, all these symptoms were absent.
He had passed a sleepless night, bitterly upbraiding himself with having committed a grave injustice, he of all men, who prided himself on being inflexibly just. His face was drawn and white, his heavy eyes showed the want of rest. He stood before the girl almost humble, filled with remorse and self-accusation.
“Rosabelle, I want you to do me an immediate favour.”
“Of course, dearest uncle.” The sympathetic girl’s heart went out to him in his misery. It was terrible to see this proud, strong man so abased in his own estimation, standing before her almost as a criminal might have stood before a judge. “You know what pleasure it will give me.”
“I want you to order the car at once, go straight to Richard, and do your best to make my peace with him. Tell him that I am following you in half an hour to entreat his forgiveness. If he will accord it to me,” he added in a broken voice, “I will devote my life to making amends.”
Rosabelle flung her arms round her uncle’s neck, her eyes full of happy tears. “Oh, gladly will I go on such an errand. And, of course, Dick will forgive. All along he has always admitted the terrible strength of the evidence against him, and told me that nobody but I would have believed in his innocence.”
“You believed in him because you loved him, child. I loved him, too, but the love of man lacks the divine quality that always animates that of a woman,” admitted the humbled man in a voice of deep sadness.
Well she knew as she drove along to the little cottage at Petersham where Richard Croxton had been eating his heart out for so many weary weeks, that the treachery of his wife had affected her husband lessthan his injustice towards the son of his old sweetheart.
Little need to describe the rapture of the lovers when the wonderful news had been told. Hand in hand they sat, discussing the golden future before them, for had not Rupert Morrice avowed his intention of making amends?
And then, half an hour later, for even in moments of stress, this capable man of business was ever punctual to the minute, Morrice unlatched the garden gate of the tiny cottage and found Richard waiting for him at the door.
Silently the two men clasped hands. It was the elder who spoke first. “So Rosabelle has induced you to forgive me? She was ever a peacemaker.”
There was perfect sincerity in the young man’s tone when he answered. “The past is buried, sir, absolutely and irrevocably, so far as I am concerned. My only regret is that my innocence should have to be established at such a terrible cost to yourself.”
The financier waved his hand with one of his old imperious gestures. “No more on that subject, Dick. Thank God, her passing out of my life will not make the difference to me that yours did.”
Richard was deeply touched. By those few words he knew how deeply his benefactor had suffered from the severance of their old affectionate relations.
Morrice took the young man by the arm and led him into the little parlour where Rosabelle, flushed with her new-found happiness, stood awaiting them. He took a hand of each and joined them together.
“That is the dearest wish of your hearts, is it not?” he said, a kindly smile lighting up the drawn face. “Well, God bless you both, and give you all the happiness you deserve. Sweet little Rosabelle hasalways been as dear to me as if she had been my own child. You, Richard, will resume your place in my house as an adopted son. But I would wish you to defer your return for a week or two till all this painful business is over. When you come back, we will draw a close curtain shutting out that hateful past. I shall live for the future, for you and Rosabelle—for your children.”
A few months later Richard Croxton was married to his loving and faithful Rosabelle, and rewarded with a partnership in the famous firm.
Mr. Morrice still believes in his wonderful safe, although he does not talk about it as much as he used, but he is very particular now about his two keys which he carries himself. He does not leave them lying about in odd places, and his memorandum of the mechanism is securely locked up.
Mrs. Morrice lives with the friend of her youth, Alma Buckley, and that friendship is the only comfort in her miserable life. Jack Graham has dropped the name of Archie Brookes, and, still helped by his unhappy mother, has turned over a new leaf and is now in the way of earning an honest livelihood in the commercial world. The fate of his former protector, Sir George, struck terror into him, and proved a salutary warning of what can befall a man who enters upon evil courses.
The Croxtons have a charming home in one of the prettiest spots in Surrey, within easy distance of London by rail or car. But the greater portion of the year is spent in Deanery Street, with the grey-bearded financier whose experience of matrimony was so bitter, and who is never so happy as when he is in their society. The bad time they all went through is forgotten in their present happiness, and the nameof Mrs. Morrice never passes their lips. The tender-hearted Rosabelle often thinks compassionately of her, but there is no forgiveness for her in the hearts of either of the two men whom she so deeply wronged.
THE END