CHAPTER XLITHE OTHER SIDE
“You are, of course, aware,” said the latter, sitting down at the table and beginning to arrange his papers before him—“you are, of course, aware of my own intimate connection with the very youthful marriage of my friends, Lady Elfrida Glennon and Prince Luigi Saviola?”
Mr. Force, thoroughly informed of that circumstance, could bow acquiescence. This assent was supposed to answer also for Lord Enderby—who, however, knew nothing about it—and the general continued:
“You know that at that time I was a very young man, scarcely having attained my majority. I had a warm friendship for, and a youthful sympathy with, the young lovers; yet I would have dissuaded Saviola from the hasty marriage if I could have done so. But who can turn an Italian lover from his love chase? Seeing that I could do nothing to prevent the marriage that was sure to come off, sooner or later—for her father was in the East, and her brother was at Eton, and a minor, and she herself only in the care of two teachers for whom she had neither love nor esteem—I determined to do a brother’s or a father’s part by her, at least so far as going with the mad pair and seeing that the marriage ceremony was duly and lawfully performed in Scotland. But you have heard all this before, and I am wasting time, perhaps, in trying to excuse myself.”
“Your course in that affair needs no excuse, butrather the gratitude of all who are interested in Lady Elfrida,” said Mr. Force.
“I thank you, sir. I did indeed act in the interest of the young lady. I went to Scotland with the young pair and saw them properly married, in the parlor of the manse, by the minister, at Kilton, Dumfries, North Briton; and in addition to the certificate given to the bride, I took a duplicate, duly signed and witnessed, because I thought it just possible the young lady might mislay or lose her lines.”
“You are sure that the place at which you stopped for the marriage was Kilton, in Scotland, and not Kelton, a few miles south in England?” inquired Mr. Force.
Anglesea lifted his eyes from the paper in his hand and looked at the questioner with surprise.
“They are so near together on the same line, and the sound of the names are so similar, that the mistake might easily have been made—on a night journey,” Mr. Force explained.
“It might, but it was not. Here is the certificate. Will you examine it?” said the general, laying the document before the squire.
Sure enough, there was the printed heading:
Parish of Kilton, Dumfries, N. B.
And then followed the date and the record of the marriage between Luigi Saviola, of Naples, Italy, and Elfrida Glennon, of Northumberland, England, signed by the minister and attested by two witnesses.
Abel Force heaved so deep a sigh of relief that Lord Enderby bent toward him and inquired:
“What is the matter? Why were you so anxious about this point?”
“I will tell you later. I will explain everything later. For the present let us listen to the facts.”
“I wish to put one question to you, Anglesea, and inthe name of our lifelong friendship: Why did you never inform me of my sister’s marriage?”
“Because, my dear fellow, I was in honor bound to keep the secret until the parties concerned announced their marriage. As I heard nothing about it from you or your father, I was restrained from mentioning the subject.”
“I see! I see!” assented the earl.
“I should not have brought up the matter now had not the death of Saviola and the marriage of his widow absolved me from my implied pledge of secrecy; and very important considerations constrained me to cross the ocean to seek out Lady Elfrida and to speak of her first marriage, of which I was the principal witness.”
“I thank you, both on the part of Lady Elfrida and myself, for the great interest you have felt and the great trouble you have taken in her cause,” said Abel Force so earnestly that Lord Enderby muttered to himself:
“I wonder what in the deuce has come over the squire? But I shall know presently, perhaps.”
“I must explain these considerations,” continued the general. “I was at Naples last year, where I renewed my acquaintance with the aged prince, Antonio Saviola, whom I had known years before. We met at the house of a mutual friend. He invited me to dinetête-à-têtewith him on the next day, and to come early, as he wished to converse with me on a subject near. I accepted the invitation and went.”
“Pardon,” said the earl; “what relation was Prince Antonio to Luigi Saviola?”
“He was the granduncle of Luigi, who was his next of kin. When I reached the Palazzo Saviola I was at once ushered into the presence of the prince, who received me in his library with much cordiality. He entered at once upon the subject in his mind by saying:
“‘You were the attendant of my grandnephew, Luigi,on the occasion of his marriage with the only daughter of an English earl?’
“‘Yes, sir,’ I answered, a little surprised that he should know the fact.
“‘So I was informed by a letter from my nephew soon after the occurrence. You were also his second in the fatal duel in Paris, about a year later, in which my nephew lost his life?’
“‘No, prince. I was not in Paris at the time of that unhappy meeting,’ I answered.
“‘Then I have been misinformed upon that point. But there is no question of your having been a witness to his marriage?’
“‘No question at all, prince. I was present in the interests of the lady, taking the place of her father or brother, one of whom should have been there to give her away.’
“‘Precisely. That is how I understood from Luigi your presence at this Montague and Capulet marriage. I have lost sight of the widow entirely. I last heard of her at Geneva. In a letter written to me by my unhappy nephew on the night before his duel he told me that his wife was at the Beau Rivage, Geneva, expecting the birth of a child; that if he should survive the meeting of the next day he would hurry to her side. If he should fall, he recommended her to my sympathy and compassion. This letter found me prostrate with typhoid fever, and did not meet my eyes for weeks after it was written. My nephew was dead and buried. His widow had left Geneva, accompanied by her father and her infant. All my efforts to find them proved fruitless, and at last I gave up inquiry. Only lately have I become again interested in the subject. The reason is this: I am very aged, near ninety. My sons and grandsons have all gone before me to the better land. The last, Vittorio, departed some months since. I have no heirs,unless it happens that the posthumous child of Luigi proves to be a son and is now living. It is to ascertain this point that I have called you here to-day.’
“I could tell him nothing about the child, of whom I had never heard. But I offered to go to Geneva in person, and search the church register of the year and month in which the child of Luigi and Elfrida was born, and ascertain whether that child were son or daughter. I did so, and succeeded in procuring an attested copy of the registry of birth and baptism of Rolando, son of Luigi Antonio Saviola and Elfrida, his wife. This I took to Naples and laid before the old prince, together with the certificate of the marriage of Luigi and Elfrida. The old man was very near his end, but he lived long enough to acknowledge the boy as his legal heir, and to make a will, leaving him all his devisable property. ‘For I feel sure the youth is living,Amigo,’ he said. ‘Fortune would not be so cruel as to cut off the entire family of Saviola.’
“Those were his last words.
“After the funeral, I prepared to return to England, to search for Lady Elfrida and her son. Judge of my surprise when I learned, by a mere accident, that she had been with her family at Naples only a few weeks before. I went over to England, only to hear that she had sailed, with all her party, for America. I took ship and followed. Looked for you in New York in vain. Remembered that you had a country seat at Mondreer, Maryland. Came down to Washington to-day en route for Mondreer. Ran up against you, Enderby, in the street to-night.”
“A lucky meeting,” said the earl.
“Yes. These documents before me are attested copies—the first of the certificates of the marriage between Luigi Saviola and Elfrida Glennon; the second of the registry of baptism of Rolando, their son; the thirdof the last will and testament of Antonio Saviola. These will establish the claim of the young man, who, you say, is alive and well, to the estate of his late uncle. When may I bring them to Lady Elfrida?”
“To-morrow, if you please,” replied Mr. Force.
Then the earl and the squire arose, and, with renewed thanks, bade the general good-night.