CHAPTER XXXV.FURTHER DISCLOSURES.
When their boisterous joy had subsided a little, Alfred Ellerton turned again to his wife and said:
“My love, your story was rather unceremoniously interrupted. If you feel equal to it, I would like to hear how you spent all those long years, after you gave up our boy.”
There was a tenderness in his voice, as he pronounced the words “our boy,” that brought the tears to Ralph’s eyes, and, seeking his mother’s side again, he remained a rapt listener while she continued her tale.
“I lived,” she said, “most of the time quite comfortably by the effort of my needle. But sometimes, when too ill to work, I was very destitute. I left Naples and went into a quiet village, where the people were kind and friendly, and after a while my life became quite peaceful, but, oh, so lonely.
“Finally a long and weary sickness unfitted me for labor of any kind, and I resolved to return to my native land and make one last appeal to Ralph.
“I had not quite money enough to defray my expenses, so I pawned everything but a few necessary articles and the precious brooch.
“I went to him, and the result you know, as you say you heard all that passed between us. When I fled from him that day, I thought my heart was breaking. I felt so friendless, homeless, and so weary of life, that I longed to die and be at rest. The last I remembered, as I wandered through the streets of the city, was falling heavily upon the pavement, believing that I was dying. When I again recovered consciousness it was far into the night, and the woman in whose care you say you had left me was bending kindly over me. I asked her where I was and what was the matter. She told me that I had fainted in the street, and a gentleman had brought me there in a cab.
“I remembered all then, and somewhat anxiously felt in my bosom for my treasured pictures. Imagine my grief and indignation when I found they were gone. All I possessedon earth to link me to the joys of the past taken by a cruel, relentless hand from me, for I felt convinced that I had been robbed by my brother. All hope was crushed out of my heart, for now I had nothing with which to prove my identity. Once again I thrust my hand in my bosom, hoping that I had missed my treasure in my search. I only found the paper containing the fifty-dollar bill, and upon which were the words bidding me go to the post-office in a fortnight.
“Then I was convinced that my brother was the robber, and perhaps, feeling a touch of remorse, had left the money in its place. I could not do otherwise than accept my fate, cruel though it was, and at the end of that fortnight I went as directed to the office. I found an envelope directed to ‘Rose Moulton’ awaiting me. It contained another fifty dollars, with instructions to go for the same every fortnight.
“I still thought the money came from my brother, and accepted it as my rightful due. I resolved at once to improve my condition and appearance, and, when I had become something like the Rose Moulton of former years, to seek my son, in spite of all opposition, tell him my story, and rely on the natural love-instincts of the heart to own and greet me as his mother.
“But while I waited and prepared, he and his uncle disappeared. After a few years I heard of them in New York. In the meantime I had lived comfortably, with plenty of means at my command, and really looked like my own self once more.
“I immediately went to New York, but when I arrived there I found that they whom I sought had gone abroad. I learned their destination from the lawyer whom I engaged to receive my remittances and forward them to me, and immediately followed them.
“I only arrived this morning, and hearing the story of the unfortunate lady who was to be forced to wed my son, also of the expedition formed to prevent it, I wrapped myself in this heavy cloak and followed, little dreaming of the happiness and joy that awaited me.”
“Oh, what is there of evil that you have not done, wretch that you are?” said Alfred Ellerton, sternly, turning to the squire, who had sat in a state of torture, as he listened to the stories just related.
Now he ground his teeth with rage at the sight of their joy, but replied, with a fiendish leer:
“I have the satisfaction of knowing that my plots worked well for twenty years, even if they do fail in the end.”
“Silence, fiend; the day of reckoning is for you at hand!”
He subsided again into a dogged and sullen silence.
“But, Alfred, how came you to get the certificate again? you have not told me,” said Rose, turning again to her husband.
“I told you that I followed him for a long time. I knew he must have stolen it, for I had never opened the casket which contained it except in your presence. I felt assured, too, that he would either keep it about his person, or else destroy it, and I resolved to satisfy myself, feeling it was well worthy an effort. In my disguise I went to the inn where he and Ralph put up, and while the maids were getting their supper the night they arrived, I went into the kitchen and slyly drugged their coffee. My room was directly back of theirs, with only a closet between, and after they were asleep (sound asleep, too, I assure you they were, for it was a powerful drug I used) I removed a board from the partition in the closet, entered their apartment, and searched until I found this precious bit of paper.”
He put it in her hand as he ceased speaking, and she clutched it eagerly, while her eyes flew swiftly over it, devouring every word; then, with a smile and a sigh of intense relief, she hid it within her bosom.
“I concealed myself several times in that closet,” continued her husband, “and in that way learned much of the treachery that was afloat.”
The squire gave a howl of rage at this disclosure, and muttered a horrible oath, while Ralph hung his head in shame and confusion.
“Now, my precious wife,” said Alfred Ellerton, without heeding the interruption, “I believe I have told you everything you care to know, unless I repeat that I have an abundance of this world’s goods, and that your future life shall be one bright dream of happiness, if my devotion and love can make it such. We will improve every moment, and strive to forget in the joy of the present the bitterness and suffering of the past. But,” he added, quickly turning and glancing around, “I have a couple of friendshere who have, also, something against this peace-destroying wretch; and when they have settled with him we will leave this place for more agreeable quarters.
He turned away, as he spoke, to see the Italians before mentioned, while the squire, with an uneasy, and anxious expression upon his yellow face, remained waiting and watching, not without cause, for further painful developments.