[figure description] Page 207.[end figure description]

CHARLE gave a violent start and turned so
pale that he seemed about to faint.

“Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke!” he
gasped, — “that man my father!”

“Yes!”

“You laugh at me, old man! My father
was a French sailor, Edmond Earle, a brave
man and a good Catholic.”

“You are mistaken. Your father was an
Englishman, and I am sorry to say a heretic,
my son!”

“Good heavens!”

The old priest assumed an expression which
said,—

“It is melancholy, but true!”

Then he added in words,—

“You doubtless have seen him?”

[figure description] Page 208.[end figure description]

“Yes,” said the sailor, in a low voice; his
brows knit, his eyes fixed upon the carpet.

“Without knowing of the relationship?”

“I never dreamed of it,” said Earle, in the
same tone.

Then rising suddenly, and losing sight apparently
of the presence of the priest, he paced
hurriedly up and down the room, exclaiming at
intervals,—

“That man my father! — the husband of my
mother, living there within sight of her; never
acknowledging, or perhaps not knowing her!
It is incredible, or it is infamous! That murderer
whom I have just renounced! that man
who has tracked, and hunted me to my death
well-nigh! that assassin, that infamous excrescence
of humanity, — this wretch my father!
my own father!”

He sank into a chair, and covered his face
with both hands. His breast shook, a deep sob
tore its way from his lips, and scalding tears
trickled between his fingers.

The old priest went to him, and said soothingly,—

“Do not be so much moved, my son. No
human being can control his fate. It is not
your fault that you are this man's son. Dry your

[figure description] Page 209.[end figure description]

tears; seek consolation where alone it is to be
found, and all will once more grow peaceful in
your breast. Lift up your heart!”

The old man man raised his hand, and
pointed toward heaven. Earle slowly inclined
his head, and removed his hands. His face was
wet with tears.

“Enough, father,” he said. “I was a child
for a moment, but I am a man again.”

His face flushed. He rose to his feet.

“Yes, a man! and my mother shall not suffer!”

“Your mother?”

“She shall not be repudiated by that man!
I know him too well; he has acted infamously,
if he is my father; he is bent on acting more infamously
still.”

“Tell me all, my son.”

“He designs marrying a second time; and
even now may be perfecting that crime in spite
of all I have done to destroy him!”

“You! a second marriage! Why that would
be no marriage, since your mother still lives,
you say. And you speak of attempting to destroy
him! How is all this, my son?”

Earle grew calm, collected, and on his guard
all at once. The old priest's foible was evidently

[figure description] Page 210.[end figure description]

curiosity; but the sailor did not wish to gratify
this curiosity. A heavy weight was on his heart,
and he saw that there was no time to lose if he
meant to act.

“I am in haste now, father,” he said, “and
must reserve my story for another occasion.
At present I request that you will exhibit to me
your register, and supply me with an attested
copy of the marriage record of Marianne Earle
and Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. It is here—
the register?”

“Yes, my son; there upon the table.”

And the old priest approached the table, and
opened the volume bound in black leather.

“Another person has just visited me, on an
errand similar to yours, my son. His object
was to procure a copy, attested, of a certain
birth entry. What you wish is further back.
It ought to be here,” he added, stopping as he
turned over the leaves.

He examined the pages.

“Strange!” he said. “I do not find it, and
yet—”

He looked at the paging of the volume. At
a glance it was evident that one of the sheets
was missing, since page 39 followed page 36.

“Can it be?”

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And the priest examined the volume more
closely. A sheet had been cut out. The narrow
strip remained indicating the theft.

“It is incredible! How was it possible? Yes,
yes! while I was absent! That was a plan laid
to remove me. Not a doubt of it!”

“What is the matter, father?” exclaimed
Earle.

“It is gone, my son. The entry of your
father and mother's marriage has been stolen!”

“Stolen! By whom?”

“By the man who was here an hour ago.”

“The man—!”

“An Englishman, as I conjectured from his
accent. He had me sent for on a false errand;
remained here, and must have cut out this leaf.”

Earle gazed in astonishment at the book, and
saw the narrow slip.

“What interest could any one have in—”
Suddenly he stopped.

“An Englishman, did you say, father?”

“As I supposed, my son.”

“His appearance?”

“A large man of great bulk and strength,
though not tall. He had a heavy black beard on
his face, and wore an English dreadnought
coat.”

[figure description] Page 212.[end figure description]

“It was Wilde!” exclaimed Earle; “and he
was sent hither by his master. This proof of
the marriage with my mother existed. He is
bent on marrying again, and has abstracted it.”

He turned quickly, and seized his hat.

“What route did the man take, father?”

“I can tell you that, my son. He went
straight toward the coast.”

Earle hastened toward the door.

“Farewell, father! I am going to pursue
him. I have fifteen days' furlough; this cloak
will conceal my uniform. From this moment
it is a struggle which of us shall reach England
first. I will have that paper, or the life of the
man who carries it on his person. If he arrives
with it, all is lost! If I come up with him all
is saved. Farewell, father! Your blessing. I
go on a dangerous journey.”

And turning suddenly, the young man knelt
on one knee.

“Heaven bless and prosper you, my son!”

A moment afterwards Earle had disappeared.

p517-218

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