CHAPTER I.

[figure description] Page 003.[end figure description]

London, July 8th, 184—.
To
The readers of the First Part of `The Silver Bottle.'

I DEPARTED from Boston in the Acadia Steamship the Monday following the
close of the First Series of my narration, and arrived here in safety three days
ago. I have already stated that by the generosity of my kind foster-mother,
Dame Darwell, I was amply provided with means to prosecute my search. According
to my promise the reader shall now hear of my progress in a series of
letters which I shall transmit to them in recompense for their indulgence in following
me thus far in my narrative[1].

Having, as has been seen, exhausted all my resources of information in the
United States, there remained no alternative but to cross the Atlantic. My
readers will probably remember on what proofs I hoped to find some trace of
my parentage; but I will here recapitulate them:—First: was the Silver Nursery
Bottle which was discovered lying with me in the bed of the `Court Chamber,
' with its crest of an eagle treading upon a serpent, and beneath the crest a
cypher—the single letter `M.'

Second: This crest was also upon the harness and carriage and the initial
was upon the brass plate of a trunk behind the carriage! These facts of coincidence
showed that the bottle must have belonged to the persons in the carriage,
and consequently that both the bottle and myself had been left in the Court
Chamber by these strangers.

Third: I have traced the carriage to the carriage maker's in Philadelphia
and there obtained the original drawing of the crest; and I had discovered at
the hotel that the purchaser of the carriage had entered his name as `F. R.
Marlborough;' (a singular coincidence with my own!) for as these were the
initials on the back of the letter upon which the device of the crest had been
drawn by the stranger for the coach-painter, there was no question of the identity
of one with the other.

Fourth: The discovery of the old English trunk was a circumstance that I
deemed an important item in my array of discoveries; as it, without doubt,
confirmed my long conceived opinion that I should yet have to look to England
for my parents.

Fifth: The name of the maker of the Silver Bottle on which I placed great
hopes. It was `Beufort & Co. Lon—.'

[figure description] Page 004.[end figure description]

`Sixth: The crest, if belonging to an English family, could without doubt
be found at the Herald office, and by this means the family which claimed it
might be discovered.

These were the slight grounds upon which I based my hopes of discovering
my parents, and which have led me to cross the Atlantic in search of them. I
am now in London! My hopes are buoyant. I feel I shall yet succeed! At
least I am determined never to cease my efforts to find those to whom I owe
my birth. I have been two days in London. But the fatigue and excitement
of my journey and of reaching the field of my labors has kept me confined to
my room until this morning. I have been engaged all the forenoon in making
my plans. The Herald office cannot be visited on business until next Wednesday
and it is now Friday. I should first wish to visit that, but I cannot wait so
long an interval. I have, therefore, sent a servant for a directory from one of
the libraries to examine it for the name of `Beufort & Co.,' the makers of the
Silver Bottle. The servant has just returned!

4 P. M. I have examined the directory for this year and those for seven
years back without finding the firm. I find several of the name of Beufort both
alone and with partners, but none of the firm of `Beufort & Co.' I have despatched
a messenger for a bound catalogue of the trade published, as I learn,
by the company of Silver Smith's of the city of London, and extending back in
volumes for more than a century. I have sent for the volume or twenty-five
years ago.

The man has just returned from `The Silver Smith's Arms,' informing me
that books are not suffered to leave the library, but that I can call and refer to
them. I shall at once proceed to the Hall for this purpose.

8 P. M. I left the house guided by the messenger, for London is a labyrinth
to me, and reached the Silver Smith's Hall after half an hour's walk. I was
guided up a broad flight of steps into a vestibule, where sat an old man who
acted as door-keeper. On informing him of my wishes he asked me if I had a
ticket of admission. I replied in the negative.

`You cannot be admitted without a ticket of permission, sir,' he said.

`Of whom am I to obtain this?'

`Of the President of the Company.'

While I was undecided what to do, a gentleman, advanced in years, came up
the stairs and was about to enter, when observing my perplexity, for he had
overheard what had passed, he said to me politely,

`You are a stranger I peceive, sir!'

`Yes, sir. An American.'

`You may enter, sir, with me. Can I be of service to you?'

`My business in coming here,' I answered, `was to examine the volume of
The Silver Smith's Company for about twenty-four or five years ago!'

`You will find them arrayed on yonder shelf, sir. Whose name can you wish
to search for, of a date so long back?'

`That of `Beufort & Co.'

`That is my own firm?' he said, looking at me fixedly.

`Your own firm!' I repeated with gratified surprise.

Yes, sir. I am the Senior partner of that House!'

[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]

`I could not find it on the directory for the last seven years!'

`No, sir. It is twelve years since I withdrew my name from the firm; it is
now `Walley & Beufort,' my son and son-in-law! I should have said I was
instead of am the Senior parter!'

I was so greatly agitated for a few moments after this singular and seemingly
providential discovery, that I could not speak. I trembled and had to place
my hand against a column for support He observed my emotion and said with
alarm,

`What! are you becoming ill, sir?'

`No—no, sir! It is all over. It was only my surprise at meeting you so
singularly for whom I was seeking—whom I crossed the Atlantic almost purposely
to see!'

`Crossed the Atlantic to see me?' he exclaimed with intense astonishment.—
`What can you have with me to come so far? I do not remember ever to have
seen yon—yet, now I look at you more closely, your features seem somewhat
familiar:'

`You can never have seen me before, sir! I have come to see you and ask
you what (I said coloring at the seeming trivial nature of the subject) I fear
you will regard as a trifling question, but one which is full of the deepest import
to me!'

`Well, sir, speak!' he said gravely seeing that I paused, and looking at me
as if he suspected I was not exactly in a state of mental soundness.

`Do you remember having sold some twenty-five years ago, a silver nursing
bottle?'

He smiled, but answered benevolently,

`I dare say I have, sir, a good many of them. In those days I know we manufactured
them?'

`You stamped them with the name of your firm—Beufort & Co?'

`Yes. But why do you ask?'

`I have a motive, sir, if you will indulge me! Did you ever sell such an
article to a person by the name of Marlboro'?'

I hung upon his reply. He looked as if he were trying to recollect, and then
answered slowly,

`Not that I remember. My books however will show!'

`Can you refer to them easily?'

`Yes, sir. But this would hardly seem necessary!'

`I owe you a thousand apologies, sir, but it is very necessary I should ascertain
this. When I tell you, sir, that I am a foster-child and abandoned by my
parents in infancy and that the only clue I have to my parentage is a silver
nursing bottle which they left with me, stamped with your name, I am assured
sir, you will excuse my zeal and overlook the trouble I give you!'

`And this is true that you are such a child and in possession of such a bottle?'

`Yes, sir! Here it is!' I ssid taking it from my pocket and then from two
envelops (the inner one being the leaf from the music book with the tune of
`Little Marlboro' upon it, in which the baby linen had been wrapped) and
handing it to him. He took it and said immediately,

`This is certainly one of my manufacture, with my stamp upon it! From its

[figure description] Page 006.[end figure description]

shape I know it to be one of the earliest that we had made. I am ready to assist
you, sir, if you can tell me how I can do so?'

`If you will do me the honor to listen to me, sir, I will tell you all my past
history and my hopes of the future!'

`I will cheerfully hear you. Here are two chairs!'

I then gave him a brief yet sufficiently minute account of the facts the reader
is already familiar with up to the time of my embarking for England. He
listened with the profoundest attention and at times with emotion he did not attempt
to disguise. When I had ended he said, grasping my hand,

`Sir, your narrative has deeply interested my feelings. I am obliged to you
for narrating it to me. I agree with you that your search must be now continued
in England; and you have my prayers for your success. I believe you
will succeed. You shall have all the aid I can give you! The facts you bring
to bear upon the search before you are, as far as they go, of importance. They
are, however, in themselves nothing unless you can connect each link that
follows with its fellow. You deserve all praise for your perseverance. Come
with me, sir, to my counting-room, where my books are, and I will examine them.
I was always in the habit of making a record of each days' sales, and to whom,
if I knew the persons!'

From the Silver Smith's Hall I went with him to his own carriage, which
had been waiting for him at the door of the Hall, to his counting-room. It was
in the rear of a magnificent establishment for the sale of silver wares. We
passed through the glittering room and entered his counting-room, which he
seemed to keep only to preserve his habits of business. There was at the desk
an aged clerk almost as venerable as Mr. Beufort himself.

`Jacob, turn to ledger B,—date 1818, and see if there is such a name entered
upon it as F. R. Marlborough!' said his master as he laid down his hat and
stick, and seated himself in his arm-chair. I was too nervous to accept the seat
he offered me, but stood waiting to see what Jacob would discover.

The old clerk having found the huge volume, dusted it and run his eye over
the alphabetical list at length arrested his finger upon the letter `M.' He then
run over the names beginning with this letter, murmuring `Marl—Marl—Marl,'
in a half tone, as his eye traveled down the column. I watched him with intense
anxiety. At length at the very bottom of the page, he placed his fore-finger
upon a name, and emphatically pronounced the word `Marlborough.'

`You've found it!' cried Mr. Beufort half rising up in his chair.

`Yes sir `Marlborough. F. R, page 319,' he responded in a formal tone.

`Turn to it quickly,' I said, impatient at his mechanical formality.

He tossed back the heavy leaves of the folio, and laid open the page named.
I was instantly looking over his shoulder. It showed an account opened by the
House of Beufort & Co. with Ferdinand R. Marlborough. I ran my eye rapidly
over the items, which were a score in number. Among others was a `Silver
bottle!' I uttered an exclamation of joy, and announced it to Mr. Beufort
He came and looked over the book.

`Extraordinary! Wonderful coincidence! Providence has taken the matter
up, young man! Persevere and you will ultimately succeed! Your Silver Bottle
will yet make your fortune! Strange, indeed!'

[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]

`Have you any recollection of this, Mr. Marlboro?' I asked earnestly.

`I am trying to think. I have had so many customers that I am not sure that
I recollect him. Do you know who it was, Jacob?'

`He was quite a young man, I recollect sir, I sold him most of these articles
myself.'

`Can you describe his appearance?' asked Mr. Beufort.

`He was about the height of this young gentleman, sir, and—(here he looked
at me with a sudden gaze of surprise) I never saw two more alike, sir! It is
surprising, sir,' he added, looking at me and bowing, `the astonishing resemblance
between you and Mr. Marlborough!'

I exchanged looks with Mr. Beufort, who looked very much excited with the
most pleasurable emotions. `Your case is brightening, sir,' he said to me.

I was silent. I was too deeply moved to open my lips to express what I felt.
I trembled between hope and fear.

`What family did he belong to, Jacob?' asked Mr. Beufort.

`I cannot say, sir, though I have no doubt he was one of the nobility. He
used to call in a tilbury when he came alone; but when he came with his lady,
her carriage had a crest of an eagle strangling a snake!'

`The very same!' I exclaimed almost wild with my feelings.

`And he had a wife, Jacob?'

`Yes, Mr. Beufort. A young wife!'

`Let me see the dates,' he said, looking at the account. `His bills begin
January first with the purchase of a diamond necklace, and a set of bridal pearls,
doubtless for new year's or wedding gifts. The silver bottle was bought December
20th.'

`The bottle I sold to the lady. She came alone in her carriage. I recollect
the circumstance, from her wishing the crest and the initial `M' engraved upon
it!'

`Your memory is not only tenacious, Jacob, but very valuable just now!'

`I always had a good memory, sir. I can recollect biting my fingers with my
first teeth!' answered Jacob gravely.

`I dare say, Jacob. You have shown evidences of it now. Is that the bottle
you sold the lady?'

Jacob took it and examined it closely.

`Yes sir,' he answered confidently.

`It is one of ours; but is it the identical one?'

`Yes, sir. I know it by the crest. I engraved it myself!'

`Then the matter is settled,' said Mr. Beufort, looking at me, and smiling
with gratification. `We have now to find out who Mr. Marlborough was, and
it is my opinion that will amount to the same thing as finding out your parents,
sir! You have clearly proved them to be English, I think! The next step to be
taken is to the Herald office!'

`It is closed,' I said in a tone of disappointment.

`Not so that admittance cannot be obtained on application to the proper

[figure description] Page 008.[end figure description]

quarter. Come and breakfast with me at No—Terrace, at nine to-morrow, and
we will then proceed together to the Herald office!'

This good man then drove me to my lodgings, where I have now written the
progress of events up to this hour. My next letter will make known the result
of my visit to the `Herald's Hall.'

eaf174v2.n1

[1] We have thought best to give the letters as they are, instead of bringing them into a
narrative form.

CHAPTER II.

[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]

London, —, 1844.

I have just returned from a visit to the Herald's Hall, and with a beating heart
and trembling fingers I proceed to write what has transpired, before I leave London,
which I shall do at day-light in a post chaise.

It will be remembered that I was about to proceed to the Herald's office with
Mr. Beufort who was to make use of his personal influence to obtain admittance
for me. To this gentleman I feel under the profoundest obligations of
gratitude.—From the first moment in which I made him acquainted with my
story, he has taken the deepest interest in my researches; and has voluntarily
and most kindly offered to aid me, not only with his influence and experience,
but with money, should I at any time require it. But, thanks to my kind foster-mother,
good Dame Darwell, I am amply provided with means to meet
every possible contingency.

I left my rooms this morning at ten, and entering Mr. Beufort's carriage,
which he had sent to receive me, I drove to his handsome mansion on —
Terrace. Ho received me at the door, and said he would be at leisure in a few
minutes to accompany me to the Hall, and that in the meanwhile his wife and
daughter would entertain me. Thereupon he ushered me into a pleasant withdrawing
room opening from the breakfast room, and presented me to Mrs. Beufort
and her daughter, an accomplished and exceedingly lovely young lady of
eighteen years of age, whose features at once reminded me of Emma Field, a
young person no doubt still remembered by my readers as she will ever be by
me! Indeed this beautiful girl is ever visible to the eye of my imagination
whenever I look into the future! It is she who inspires me to action! To
persevere in establishing my birth! It is for her that I would be honoured and
esteemed! If I should hear to-day that she was no more, or what would be as
her death to me, married to another, I feel persuaded that my energies would
be paralysed and that I should be indifferent to the result of my researches after
my family. If I gain honors it is to lay them at her feet! If I gain wealth it is
to share it with her! And without her both would alike be valueless to me!

I could not help betraying some confusion and surprise at the resemblance I
discovered to Emma in Miss Beufort; a resemblance rather of air and general
manner than of feature. The sight of her revived all my emotions of love for
the absent, and I could not withdraw my eyes from her; till, at length, I discovered
that she was embarrassed by my fixed regards. I immediately apologised

[figure description] Page 010.[end figure description]

to her, saying that she so surprisingly resembled an American friend of mine
that I could offer no other excuse for my inadvertant gazing. She smiled, and
we entered into a conversation upon my fortunes, of which they were previously
informed by Mr. Beufort. I could see by Miss Beufort's eyes that she wished
I might succeed in discovering my parentage and that she sympathized with
me in my situation of doubt and uncertainty. My conversation with Miss Beufort
only deepened my tender recollections of her whom she so forcibly recalled
to my mind, and inspired me with new ardor in my pursuit of that happiness
and honor I hoped one day to share with Emma.

`Ah, my young friend, so you are agreeably entertaining the ladies, I see!
Perhaps we are entertaining a Prince,' added he, smiling pleasantly. `Well,
sir, now if you are ready!'

`If my parents prove honest and respectable I shall be satisfied, even if I find
them in humble life,' I answered, understanding his allusion.

We entered the luxurious carriage of the wealthy Silver-Smith, two livered
footmen behind, and the coach rolled with a rapid and easy motion through the
crowded streets of London. We soon left the Strand and stopped in front of
a stately edifice, seemingly of great antiquity. Alighting at the grand entrance
we passed into a large vestibule at the extremity of which was a flight of dark
oaken steps with carved banisters. At the top was a sort of open terrace leading
upon a low balcony, in which by a door sat in a carved Gothic arm-chair a
man in a Herald's surcoat, who was the porter of the Hall. To him Mr. Beufort
handed a ticket signed by the nobleman who regulated the affairs of the
Herald's Hall.

`You may enter, gentlemen! It is correct!' he answered, after peeping
closely at the signature and seal through a pair of iron spectacles that looked as
if they might have been worn by one of the Herald's of the days of the Conqueror.

We entered a vast hall of Gothic architecture, lighted by a stained window at
either extremity. It was the most remarkable apartment I ever entered, and I
remained a few moments gazing around me. The ceiling was pointed and
groined and formed of groups of light arches supported by columns springing
free from the floor thirty feet in height. The arches, pillars and walls were all
a dark gray, having the appearance of stone; and the original hue has been
changed by time, in many places a deep black. The effect was singularly venerable
and impressive. Along the roof was suspended hundreds of banners
bearing all sorts of quaint devices, an I presenting a beautiful and strange comingling
of gay colors. Some of these banners were very old, and torn doubtless
in battle. Along the walls of the hall, beneath this canopy of suspended
banners, were arranged rows of shields of every shape, and size, and degree of
antiquity, this side the Conquest. Some of them had become perfectly black
with age, others were coated with rust; and many glittered and shone as if
newly burnished. I noticed that all of them, where they were not so much defaced
as to render it impossible for anything to be discerned upon the surface,
were carved or else inlaid with devices of heraldry. On some were delineated
complete and elaborate coats of arms, by means of gold inserted in grooves cut

[figure description] Page 011.[end figure description]

into the metal. Most of the shields were battered and indented, and in one I
saw embedded the end of a broken pike-head.

Upon the opposite side of the hall were arranged casques and helmets with
and without visors; and standing around the apartment were numerous complete
suits of armor cap-a-pie, as if enveloping the body of stalwart knights.

Seeing my curiosity in observing all this, Mr. Beufort said,

`You are here in the repository of the insignia of English family honors.—
There is not a family in the land of any descent that is not represented in this
Hall by some appropriate device belonging to its name and inheritance. Here
the history of every old British family is recorded from its remotest origin, and
many of them extend their line beyond the Conquest to Norman lineage. Here
are to be found not only their histories, but the causes are recorded which led
to the distinction of each!'

As he spoke one of the ushers of the Hall approached us, and overhearing
Mr. Beufort's words, said courteously, after saluting us,

`Yes; there is not a family above the rank of a simple baron whose name
and lineage is not here on record with a copy of his arms, and how he came by
them. There now,' he said, directing our attention to the rows of shields, `is
a shield bearing simply for its device a rook. It is the device of the noble family
of Rookley, the founder of which was wounded in battle and lay perishing
in a copse where he had fallen under the weight of his armor; but who was
saved by a rook which lighting upon a tree above him made such a strange
clamor that his followers were led to approach the tree to destroy it, when the
Knight was found lying beneath it nearly dead. He afterwards, in commemoration
of his preservation, took the name of Rookley and adopted this device
upon his shield! There is a shield with a lance's head sticking in it. It is the
device of the De Lancey family. The founder was a gigantic soldier in the
battle of Croisay, and singly defended his king with this shield against a score
of Cavaliers, all of whom shivered their lances against it, and the last piercing
it broke it in the metal as you see. The soldier saved the king's life, protecting
him till succor arrived, and was knighted, adopting the lance head for his heraldic
device and designation.

Interesting as these chivalric remeniscences were, I was too impatient to
learn if I was any ways interested in the records of the Hall of Herald's to listen
with undivided attention. My eyes were roaming over the multitude of shields
and banners with the wild hope of possibly seeing that device which had become
so indelibly engraven upon my memory. Mr. Beufort seeing my impatience
and referring it to the true cause, said,

`We have visited the Hall this morning, sir, to ascertain if there is an English
family which claims a device which we bear with us!'

`If the family is English we will ascertain for you, sir,' answered the usher.

He then led the way into an inner room, the walls of which were piled with
old tomes and manuscripts on parchment. Writing tables of black wood were
standing in the middle of the apartment which was hung round with numerous
frames containing on a small scale hundreds of coats of arms, crests and cyphers
with numbers labelled upon each. Upon the table over which it was laid a
scarlet cloth curiously embroidered with silver and gold threads, and containing

[figure description] Page 012.[end figure description]

in the centre the arms of the kingdom gorgeously done in needle work, and in
brilliant colors, was an enormous volume of immense thickness and bearing
marks of age. The usher advanced towards this ponderous folio and by the aid
of both hands threw it open. I saw that it blazed with paintings of Heraldic
insignia and that the text was all done with the pen instead of being printed.

`Now, Mr. Beufort, if you will explain to me the device you wish to trace?'
he said.

`Mr. Beufort looked at me. I felt my heart leap to my throat, my agitation
was so great. Now that I was about, perhaps, to decide the mystery of my parentage
I felt nearly unequal to the command of my feelings. But as my trepidation
was natural, I know that my readers will sympathise in it. With a face
from which I felt all the blood had retreated and with a forced composure which
my trembling hand belied, I handed him the original sketch made for the carriage-painter
in Philadelphia, by the gentleman whom I supposed to be my
father. He glanced over it with a professional eye and then laying it down repeated
as if to himself,

`Eagle rampant, serpent couchant—talon grasping the head. He then turned
to the large book and began to throw over the leaves adding, `I ought to know
this—seems familiar! Can't think at this moment! Soon see! Very noble family
am sure! E, eagle. Here is the letter.'

He then ran his finger along the column of E's and arrested it on the word
`Eagle!' I had left my place and was looking over his shoulder. The word
was set down several times in conjunction with lions, bears, griffins, and then I
read `Eagle and Serpent.'

`Eagle and Serpent,' he repeated, `page 1009.'

`The Eagle and Serpent is the crest of the House of Arlborough,' said an assistant
who was writing at the next desk.

`It is so! I thought I knew it! I should have recognised it at once! But then
we have so many, Mr. Beufort, that it is difficult to keep the line of each running
in one's mind without confusion.'

`What Arlborough bears this device?' asked Mr. Beufort with interest.

`The Duke of Arlborough,' answered the Usher. `Here,' he added, turning
the leaves of the folio, `is the representation of the same crest opposite the name
of Arlborough. And over against it you see the shield and full arms of the
House!'

`Is there any other family in England that bears this crest?' asked Mr. Beufort.

`None. It belongs to the Arlborough's.'

`Then any gentleman bearing this you would set down as belonging to this
noble family?'

`Unquestionably.'

Mr. Beufort looked towards me and smiled encouragingly and well pleased;
but I dared not indulge the hopes struggling with a thousand fears in my
bosom.

`Can you tell me who belong to the existing family of the Duke?'

`Every member of it,' answered the Herald confidently; turning to another
volume and running his eye over a catalogue of initial letters. He then opened

[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]

to the page to which the list referred, and among numerous names of the house,
I discovered, with what emotions I cannot express, that of

`FERDINAND RUNDEL ARLBOROUGH,'
SECOND SON OF THE
DUKE OF ARLBOROUGH,
Born January 6, 1802.

`That must be he who signed himself F. R. Marlborough. He doubtless perflxed
the `M.' for disguise,' said Mr. Beufort. `Is he living now, Mr. Usher?'

`He is—but I believe dwells abroad. Some years ago there was a misunderstanding
of some kind between him and his father the Duke, and he has resided
out of England ever since.'

`This fact strengthens your cause, sir,' said Mr. Beufort, turning to me and
grasping my hand. `Further investigation will, I am satisfied, prove your near
relationship to this person. To-morrow morning,' he added to me as we left
the Herald's Hall, not being able to learn any thing further from the Usher,
`you shall go with me in my carriage to visit the Duke. I have met him often
on committees and am known to him! We will see what we can learn there.'

In the morning, therefore, I shall depart from London on this visit. Its result
shall be duly communicated by the next packet.

CHAPTER III.

[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]

Arlborough Castle, Northumberland,
August 2, 1844.

My last letter, it will be remembered, left me on the eve of my departure for
the seat of the Duke of Arlborough in company with my friend Mr. Beaufort,
for the purpose of following up the investigation which had terminated at the
Herald's office. From the date of the present letter, it will be seen that I write
from the place to which we were destined. Yes, within the walls and beneath
the roof which I firmly believe to belong to the house of my fathers, I address
this letter to those who have taken an interest thus far in my fate. With what
emotions too I write! With what a trembling of the hand and throbbing of the
heart! Yet all is uncertain and doubtful. Nothing is revealed—nothing established
to enable me to decide. Yet enough has been discovered to fill me
with hope and to lead me to believe that before twenty-four hours elapse I shall
have found out who are my parents!

I write in front of a deep gothic window which looks forth upon an extensive
park. A league of grand old oaks covering dale and upland stretch away before
me, with here and there an open lawn in which deer are browsing. Farther
away still, peep from between two green hills a tower and a spire, the latter
like a needle of silver pointing man to his home above and indicating to him
the way. The tower is a huge ancient pile half-ruinous and marks the site of
what was once a cathedral. In the distance swell up blue misty hills with here
and there a sharp, bold peak piercing the sky. A glittering river winds through
the valley of oaks, and all around is visible one wide scene of beauty. And all
this vast domain appertains to the lord of this noble castle, who — but I forbear
to anticipate! Twenty-four hours will reveal all! In twenty-four hours
all my hopes will be realised or forever crushed!

The room in which I am writing is a noble specimen of the gorgeous chambers
of the Elizabethan age. It occupies the interior of a spacious tower, and
like it is six sided. It is hung with drapery, which is richly ornamented with
the work of the needle, representing field sports, hawking and fishing scenes,
and one or two battle subjects in which mounted knights with visors closed are
tilting at each other with long lances. The furniture is of a very ancient and
imposing character, being of black wood, elaborately carved, the chairs being
covered with embroidery. There are little ebony secretaries inlaid with ivory,
beaulets, bureaus, desks, supported by the feet of lions, and other articles for
which I have no name, all of curious forms and of the most antique and

[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

elaborate style of construction. There is in particular a large chair in which I am
now seated, the back of which rises high above the head and projects over the
sitter in the form of a canopy surmounted by a ducal crown. Upon the crown is
perched an eagle of gold holding in his talons a serpent which he seems to be
in the act of strangling. When I compare the device upon the Silver Bottle,
which I always carry with me and now have before me upon the table, with
this, I cannot describe the emotions that occupy my bosom. The one is the
exact connter-part of the other; and it would be more extraordinary if there
should be no connection between the two than if there should prove eventually
to be the closest; noble as is the proud family which claims this armorial sign,
humble as I am, without name, country or friends! nay, but have I but one
friend, Dame Darwell my kind foster-mother! I have another tried friend too
in Mr. Beufort! With what anxious, feverish tumult of hopes and fears I look
forward to the morrow! I will try to banish this solicitude by recording what
has past up to this moment.

It was a beautiful morning when we left London. The sun never shone
brighter, and I looked upon his enlivening presence as a bright harbinger of the
future. After getting clear of the thronged streets, of the crowded suburbs,
we entered upon a magnificent turnpike along which our four post horses flew
at the rate of twelve miles an hour. We were whirled past countless picturesque
country seats which lined the road, some half hid in foliage, others open
to the view in the midst of some lawn; others buried deeper in the country
amid the stately seclusion of olden parks. Some of them were pointed out to
me by Mr. Beufort as the summer abodes of several distinguished men, such as
Sir Robert Peel, Lord Brougham, the Earl of Lennox, and others. We also
passed in the course of the morning `a box,' as it is called, where Lord Wellington
used to sojourn for a few weeks of the season, and also the seat of Lord
Cornwallis, who surrendered to Washington. We traversed many quiet villages,
picturesque and venerable, with moss grown roofs, centurial trees, and
ancient churches, looking, as all English villages look, as if they stood as they
stand now in the days of King John and bold Robin Hood. There is a repose
and an air of royal peace about these old English villages that are peculiarly inviting,
and awaken in the bosom of the observer a hundred agreeable emotions
of domestic happiness and seclusion. There were no new frame houses, new
fences, piles of lumber about the quiet streets, characteristics of all our growing
American villages. The English towns look as if they were built and finished
hundreds of years ago.

I have now an incident to record of the deepest interest to me as every one
will acknowledge who has followed me through my adventures. We arrived
at noon to dine and change horses at a pretty rural village, on the banks of one
of the loveliest rivers I ever saw—a river that might have adorned the fields of
Eden; for lovelier, greener lawns, more majestic oaks, more secluded groves,
more shady copses and sunny uplands, more romantic islands, more enchanting
meadows with grazing herds and bounding deer, interspersing and animating
all, never have been, or will be found on earth.'

The inn at which we stopped was a large old rambling pile that had entertained
cavalcades of Knights, and as the host informed us, had once in olden

[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

times the honor of entertaining Queen Bess and her train. It looked large
enough to accommodate a hundred persons, yet it was but one story in height,
but it covered with its countless out-houses nearly a good English acre. Before
the door, over which the eaves of the roof projected full eight feet, grew
two enormous and majestic oaks such as Druids in the pagan ages of the Island
chose for the scenes of their mystic rites. They flung their gigantic branches
not only over two thirds of the moss covered roof of the Inn, but over half the
village street. Between them stood a stone pump carved with grotesque visages,
and under the spout was a hospitable trough, at which a score of traveler's
horses might quench their thirst together. The pump bore the date, in quaint
old letters, of 1538. On one of the oaks was a plate, saying that it was planted
in 1375. Every thing in England reminds one of the past. In America all
that we behold raises in the mind the idea of the future! These two emotions
give complexion to the characteristics which distinguish the two nations.

We alighted from our carriage and entered the Inn. The host had come out
to receive us, and to welcome us with a degree of hospitality in his looks, tones
and manner that made us feel at home in his house. I am sorry to say that this
manner of receiving travelers is peculiar to the landlords of English Inns. At
American country Inns, the traveler if received at all, is received by the ostler
who takes his horse. He enters the bar-room and finds several persons seated
about. All stare at him, and he looks round for the landlord. Finally he asks
for him, and one of the persons in his shirt sleeves seated at his ease among the
group, with his feet upon a barrel, it may be, leisurely gets up and replies that
he is the personage, with a look as if he did not like to be intruded upon. On
the contrary the English host meets you as you descend from your carriage with
a smile, escorts you into his best room, with a pleasant word, politely, and looking
as if he really desired to make you comfortable, asks what you will have;
and while you remain under his roof, he never intermits for a moment his attention
to your comfort. But this is a digression.

We were ushered into a neat, old fashioned parlor with an oaken floor polished
like brass; white curtains draped the little ancient windows, and a fire
place, in which an English ox might lie down without inconvenience, occupied
half of one side of the room. Comfortable old-fashioned arm chairs, stuffed or
cushioned, stood around inviting the weary traveler to rest his body in their capacious
and luxurious embrace.

We ordered dinner and I walked out to look at the village, and survey the
exterior of an Inn which I was told by Mr. Beufort was a fine specimen of the
old English hotel. As I passed along the front, I turned to take a view of its
root with its numerous angular projections, turrets, and tower-like elevations,
when my eyes were arrested by a female figure in one of the windows. The
side of the person was turned to me, and a bonnet and veil concealed her face;
but my heart bounded with that instinctive recognition in which love is never
at fault! I knew that but one person in the world had that air, attitude, and
figure! But how could Emma be in England? Yet I was convinced that I
beheld her standing in the window. She was in conversation with a gentleman
advanced in years.—His face was towards me, and I saw with increased hope
that the features were American. At this moment an empty post-chaise drew

[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]

up at the door. She turned and glanced out of the window at it, raising her
veil as she did so. It was the lovely face of Emma Field, every lineament of
which was engraven upon heart, soul, and memory!

I stood transfixed to the spot without power of motion. I was making an
effort to realize that I was waking and not dreaming, for such an unexpected
vision in England seemed as if it should belong rather to dreams than the realities
of life! She directed her eyes towards me, for I was in full view of the
window not ten paces off. Perhaps my attitude of surprise and bewilderment
led her to observe me attentively. As I felt her gaze upon me the blood mounted
to my cheek and brow! Our eyes met. She recognised me with a start and
an exclamation! I saw with deep, unutterable joy, that the exclamation was
one of pleasurable surprise. She looked a second time, smiled with a blushing,
animated countenance, nodded and her lips moved. Her looks, nevertheless,
expressed surprise at beholding me; while mine were bent on her filled with
adoration and trembling hopes.

The Postilions of the coach drawn up at the door now mounted their horses,
and at the same moment the American gentleman came forth with a lady I had
seen in the coach with Emma in Boston, leaning upon his arm. Emma was
following them attended by Russel Carryl. My pride and natural sensitiveness
would have led me to shrink from observation, but a nervous desire to
know if she really despised me, and wished no longer to recognise one whom I
had no doubt she knew to be regarded by men with infamy, led me involuntarily
to advance towards her as as she was about to enter the post-chaise. Her
foot was upon the step, when she hurriedly glanced around as if in search of
some one. Her eyes met mine. They must instinctively have translated their
sad and hopeless expression, for she smiled brightly though stealthily upon me
with a smile full of hope, for me and my love's daring ambition.

The next instant she was borne from my sight seated opposite Russel Carryl!
The sight of this young man whose baseness had led me to resign from the
Navy, and whom I had even in boyhood battled with on account of Emma Field,
the sight of him now in her society, and under circumstances which led me to
believe that he was her accepted suitor, (yet why that glance and smile of encouragement
towards me from the lovely girl?) filled me with emotions of
wretchedness that drove me almost to madness! I believed that he was my
rival, my successful rival! else why this intimacy and this travelling in the
same carriage? But if he was not her suitor, I felt that he would so paint me
to her, whom I loved above all earthly objects, that I should be an object of pity
if not of contempt in her eyes. Hitherto he had not poisoned her mind against
me, else I should never have felt the sunshine of that parting glance thrilling
through and warming my soul. He had not recognised me now. For this I
was thankful, for I knew I should not be the victim of his malice while they
rode.

`Whither were they going?'

This thought no sooner occurred to me than I hastened to inquire at the Inn,
and ascertained from the host that he had heard one of the postilions say that
they were proceeding to London.

This incident gave a new turn to my thoughts. I confided the circumstance

[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]

and all the facts to my friend Mr. Beufort as the only explanation I could give
him of my change of manner.

`Fear nothing,' he said encouragingly. `You will yet triumph over your
enemies, and be rewarded with the hand of the maiden you so much prize!'

May his words be prophetic!

I was now more impatient to bring my investigations to a point. The sight
of Emma Field had inspired me with new ambition to succeed, dark and cloudy
as the horizon of my hopes with respect to her now seemed to me. But I find
I must commence a new letter, this having already been extended to an undue
length.

CHAPTER IV.

[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

Arlborough Castle, Aug. 2, 1844.

For more than half an hour after leaving the Inn, where I had encountered
in so remarkable a manner, Miss Field, I sat wrapped in my own thoughts,
which Mr. Beufort, (divining their character) suffered me to indulge. I was
inspired with new hopes, yet they were darkened even in their brightest aspects
by the circumstances under which Emma had crossed my path, as the
travelling companion of a man I had so little reason to love as Russell Carryl.
Still I hoped, and being of too sanguine and buoyant a temperament to let obstacles
stand in my way, I indulged, while I thought of Emma, the happiest
visions of the future. But all, all depended on the success of my present mission!
This reflection made me more earnest, more resolute in my purpose to
clear up the mystery attending my birth. Should I fail after all in proving anything,
I felt that the high hopes I entertained, of which Emma was the object,
would be forever blasted. But I did not suffer myself to contemplate failure.

We rode on through a eharming country, interspersed with villas, castles,
and sprinkled with churches, whose spires and turrets everywhere peeping
above the green oaks, gave a lively and picturesque aspect to the fair scenes
which we beheld from our carriage windows. England may well be called a
garden! It is every where beautiful to the eye! But I could not help reflecting
as I gazed upon its pleasant vales and quiet villages, its stately country
houses and palace-like mansions of her nobles, how many of her children were
at that moment excluded from the enjoyment of these fair objects, shut up by
thousands in her factories, or immersed by ten thousands in her cavernous
mines! I felt that with all her glory, and beauty and power, and greatness,
England at last was but a land of taskmasters and slaves; that every ninety
nine of her inhabitants were slaves to the one hundredth! And my heart
turned instinctively to American,
`The land of the free, the home of the brave.'

About three in the afternoon, as we rose a hill from which there was a prospect
of great beauty and extent, Mr. Beufort said, pointing to a noble castle
situated in the midst of the valley, surrounded by a park leagues in circumference,

`There, sir, is the seat of the Duke of Arlborough.' I turned my eyes in the
direction in which he pointed, with emotions I am unable to describe. I felt
my heart bound and my pulse leap. About four miles distant in the midst of a
magnificent area of woodland lawn and lake with a back ground of blue moun

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

tains, I beheld situated the place of my destination. It looked like a royal seat!
like a royal domain. As I surveyed it and let my eyes rove over the towers of
churches and the roofs of half concealed villages, and the far distant spires of
a large town, all of which Mr. Beufort informed me appertained to this estate,
my heart sank within me. I felt that I was daring and foolishly presumptuous
in prosecuting the search. I experienced a feeling of self-reproof for letting my
wishes to discover my parents suffer me to proceed to such lengths as I had
done!—That the proprietor of that princely estate, that the proud Duke of Arlborough
should in any way be any thing to me or I to him, a poor obscure
American, without name or birth, seemed all at once so preposterous and absurb
and altogether so unlikely, that I suddenly laid my hand on Mr. Beufort's
wrist and said,

`Sir, I feel that I am very foolish! It is impossible that I should be connected
with this noble house. The circumstances that have seemed to favor the
idea, are only singular coincidence without any reference to my case. My
courage fails me, and I am beginning to accuse myself of presumption.'

`Your feelings are perhaps quite natural, my young friend,' said Mr. Beufort
to me, smiling kindly; `but we must not be governed in this case by feelings.
The sight of the Duke's palace has no doubt presented a powerful contrast to
your own condition, and you view your situation in its light. But you must
take courage! The same motives and circumstances that had such strength in
London are equally potent now. Take courage and we shall see that all will,
somehow or other turn out as it ought to.'

I was in some degree encouraged by his words, and leaning back in the carriage
I tried to calm myself and prepare my mind for the events that were to
follow. I was at length aroused from my reverie by the stopping of the PostChaise.
I looked out of the window and a cry of surprise involnntarily escaped
me. Before us was a stately gate-way, above which was an escutcheon, and
over it hovered an eagle in stone trampling upon a serpent. It was the very
gateway I had seen in my dream.[2] While I was looking at it utterly overcome
by this singular circumstance, a man dressed in black came forth from the
lodge by the gate for the purpose of throwing it open, when seeing me he started,
gazed earnestly upon my features, and then with great respect bowed and
opened the gate. This very man in black I had also seen in my dream, to
which I request my readers to turn back. We passed through the gate before I
could recover myself from my surprise. Mr. Beufort seeing my great emotion,
inquired the cause, and I related to him my dream!—He was confounded with
wonder.

`All,' I said, as I looked out of the window, `is just as I then beheld it. The
same noble avenue of trees, the same lake around which the road wound!'

This identity so faithful filled me all at once with the most painful alarm; the
most distressing fears! for if I had seen the first part of my dream so faithfully
realized, should I not also find the tragical termination the same as I had then
seen it? I turned pale and trembled with feelings of unutterable anguish. We
approached a group of oaks upon a mound. As I beheld it, I said—

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

`Sir, I am fated to find my mother here, and to find her dead! That group
of oaks I distinctly call to mind; and to prove to you how vividly all I beheld is
impressed upon my mind, we shall, after winding round it, come in sight of a
small lake with a fountain in the midst, and after passing round the lake and
crossing a lawn bordered by chesnuts we shall come in sight of the Castle!

It proved precisely as I had said. Mr. Beufort, as we came in front of the
palace, gazed upon me with looks of astonishment.

`A Providence seems to be in this, young man,' he said impressively. `Fear
not the result.'

I could not, however, but fear! The idea that I should prove to be a descendant
of this noble House was lost in the reflection that my mother's spirit would
depart before I should behold her! This feeling was so strong upon me and
had such an effect upon my mind, that when the carriage drew up before the
terrace I did not wait to have the door opened by the footman, but throwing it
open myself I sprang from the coach and flew up the marble steps of the Portico,
up which I had been ushered in my dream! Heedless of the surprised
stare of the attendants I rushed into the hall, and lifting my eyes, anticipating
what I should see, I beheld at the extremity what I looked for—a bas relief in
green marble of an eagle with his claw upon the head of a serpent! The double
door beneath it was partly open, and without hesitation I advanced rapidly towards
it in hopes that I should at least obtain a parting look—a glance—a word!
from my mother's lips before she expired! For so vividly was my dream impressed
upon my senses, that I had no doubt that I was hastening to her dying
couch. Passing through the doors I entered a circular chamber of great height
and splendor. It was hung with tapestry worked in gold thread. I recognised
this aparrment at a glance. Even the figures upon the tapestry were familiar to
me!

How then could I be otherwise than impressed with the idea that I was about
to see realized the subsequent portions of my dream? I sought with faltering
eyes for the couch upon which I expected to see the dying form of her who I
had been told was my mother. The place where the couch stood was occupied
by a marble-slab supported by pillars. Upon the slab lay reclined at full length
upon her side, as if asleep, the figure of a female exquisitely carved in the purest
marble. I stood before it petrified with amazement. The features were those
of her I had seen in my dream.

`She is dead then! She is entombed!' I cried in unspeakable anguish and
sorrow. `I am too, too late.' At this moment a gentleman entered from a door
behind this cenotaph, and without observing me knelt by the side of the marble
figure and gazed upon the features with sad tenderness. It was the face and
form of the same noble looking gentleman I had seen in my dream! How strange
that the dream so frithful in all else should have changed in the substitution of
the marble figure for the lonely corpse of the dead; a cenotaph for a couch!
When I beheld him enter and saw him kneel, the idea that I had at length
found only the tomb of my mother, overwhelmed me with such grief—such a
crowd of emotions rushed upon me, that I tell forward and fainted at the base
of the cenotaph!

When I came to myself I found I was in this chamber from which I write and

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

lying upon a bed. By me sat bending over me with solicitude, the kind, friendly
Mr. Beufort. Seeing that I was perfectly restored he allowed me to rise and
to put to him a series of rapid questions.

`It is now three hours since we arrived here,' he said, `and since you rushed
so wildly into the castle!'

`I owe, sir,' I said mortified, `a thousand apologies to you—but I recognised
every thing around me! the portico—the saloon, the chamber containing the
cenotaph were all as if I had visited them yesterday' How could I do otherwise
than believe I should find my dying mother?'

`How extraordinary!' he exclaimed.

`In place of the couch of which I spoke to you was the cenotaph! In place
of the body of my mother, the marble effigy!—All else was the same, even the
gentleman who came in and knelt by it! Oh, sir, was it not all a dream a second
time! Did I really see such a gentleman? Tell me all!'

`Your entrance into the hall astonished every one who saw you! You were
supposed to be insane! I at once divined your object, knowing what I did of
your singular dream! I followed you as tast as I could, but we both being unknown
to the servants, and our singular mode of entering the castle rousing their
suspicions, I was detained by the steward who seized my arm, while others
were despatched in pursuit of you!'

`How singular my conduct must have appeared!' I said, quite ashamed.

`It is all over now and will turn out right. I sent them for the Duke giving
my name, and was detained till an usher came and informed me that the Duke
was then out, but would return in the morning. I then was about to say I
must be permitted to find you, when I heard a cry of alarm, and a call for aid
from the circular hall in which you had disappeared. I, at once, with the others,
rushed forward, believing some fearful event had occurred touching you.
As I entered, I saw a tall man of singular dignity of person clad in mourning
bending over you. You were lying perfectly inanimate. I hastened towards
you, and as I came to your side I saw the gentleman was regarding you with
the most fixed and intense interest. `Is he hurt?' was my first exclamation.

`He has fainted, sir,' he answered, without looking up, still regarding your
features with extraordinary earnestness; and once I saw him glance from your
face to that of the effigy, as if mentally tracing out lines of resemblance!'

`It is astonishing, sir,' I said, deeply moved, as Mr. Beufort related this incident.
`I am overwhelmed with what I hear each moment! Is it possible I
shall at last prove to be related to this family? perhaps to be the son of this
noble-looking gentleman! I am lost in amazement!'

`He made no effort to resuscitate you,' continued Mr. Beufort, smiling with
hope and confidence upon me, `and alarmed for you I took upon me to order
the servants to bring water and restoratives. In the meanwhile, I addressed
the gentleman in the hearing of all, saying that you were a young friend of
mine, who with me had come to see the Duke on business of importance, but
that circumstances connected with the visit had rendered you highly nervous,
and that you had left the carriage and flown into the castle under a temporary
state of nervous impulse which was beyond your control!

`This was the best explanation I could offer; and it proved satisfactory to the

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

Steward, who immediately ordered a chamber to be prepared for you, and you
to be conducted thither. The gentleman had seemed to pay no regard to what
I said, but only continued comparing your faco with that of the sculptured female.
And on regarding it myself I was struck with the resemblance which
had evidently struck him.'

`Is it possible,' I exclaimed. `How singular is my destiny being wrought
out!'

`Wonderfully,' said Mr. Beufort. `I have no question whatever that you are
closely related to the Duke or some member of his family' The Steward ordered
you to be raised from the marble floor, I saw without asking the gentleman,
who silently rising to his feet walked away and disappeared through a
door in the rear of the cenotaph!'

`The same by which I saw him appear,' I said.

`I followed you to this chamber where you were soon revived, and then fell
into a deep slumber!'

`How long have I slept?' I asked.

`Three hours!'

`It has refreshed and fully restored me. How strange are all these events!
Who is this noble gentleman?' I asked earnestly.

`I have not inquired,' answered Mr. Beufort. `I have not left the room
since you were conveyed hither. The Duke will be at home early in the morning,
and before twenty-four hours we shall know all that regards your fate!'

Such were the words of my benevolent friend; and being now quite recovered
I urged upon him to go and walk in the Park, while I sat down to write to
good Dame Darwell what had occurred; a duty I have done as faithfully as
that I have enjoined upon myself in writing these letters. To-morrow, therefore,
on the return of the Duke all will be known! I tremble as the cries of my
fate approaches. Twenty-four hours may confirm all my hopes, or dash them
to the earth forever.

eaf174v2.n2

[2] See Chapter VIII.

CHAPTER V.

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

Arlborough Castle, August 4, 1844.

It is with emotions of the deepest gratitude and happiness that I prepare to
address this letter to those who have taken sufficient interest in my affairs to
follow me through all the vicisitudes which have attended them. I address this
letter to such with feelings in which I am persuaded they will deeply sympathise,
sharing with me heartily my joys—joys tempered with sadness and tender
regrets.

In my last letter I said that a few hours would decide whether the web of my
destiny would prove to be interwoven with that of the noble family under whose
roof I was then a guest. I will proceed with the events subsequent to that letter
as they occurred.

After I had finished it and sealed it in the same package with one to good
Dame Darwell, I sat indulging the train of reflections to which the circumstances
of which I found myself the centre naturally gave rise. I sat before
the gothic window which looked forth upon the town and park. The evening
was just closing upon the lovely woodland landscape; and the light of the
room was rich and mellow with the glow of the crimson sky. I thought of the
wonderful train of events by which I had been brought beneath the roof where
I then found myself! I recalled the wondrous dream and its almost exact realization.
Then came sad thoughts which clouded the bright and ambitious hopes
that I might yet prove allied to this noble house, sad thoughts if I were proved
to be so I should find no mother's smile to welcome back her long lost child!—
This feeling modified the natural pride which would have filled my bosom at
the prospect of so noble a lineage. I felt if I could see my mother and be once
more embraced by her maternal arms, I would rather find her in a humble cottage,
than share the honors of a ducal palace without her!' From these thoughts
I dwelt upon the appearance of the noble looking gentleman, and recollected
that in my dream he had called himself my father! Could he be so? Would
the dream then be realized? If so, who was my father? Why is he in mourning?
Why is the cenotaph before which he kneels erected in the very centre
of the castle halls? Why did he bend over me with such tenderness? and
what connection is there between me and that lovely effigy that he should so
earnestly have been engaged in comparing with its lineaments my own? Why
did he suddenly resign me with such apathy? Had he been deceived in the
resemblance he fancied it excited, and which evidently had first struck him

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

on beholding me lying upon the pavement? Was he a person of importance in
the house? Why then did the Steward disregard him in removing me from before
him without addressing to him a word or look?'

Such were the questions I put to myself! Such were the thoughts which
filled my mind. Then I let my imagination go forward and revel in power, and
rank, and praise of men! In these visions appeared Emma but I could never
disassociate her with the hateful form of Russel Carryl! Ever to my imagination
he siood smiling triumphantly by her side! Wherefore was she now in
England? Suddenly an appalling thought flashed across my mind! I felt the
blood leave my heart and fill my brain! My head swam, and the window—the
landscape—the room whirled round! Horrible, maddening thought! It was
that she was on her bridal tour! that she was Russel Carryl's wife!'

I sprung from my chair! I walked the room till I was in a fever! A knock
at the door recalled me to myself. Mr. Beufort entered. He was surprised to
see my agitation. I frankly told him the cause; for I kept nothing from him.
I poured out all my feelings into his bosom as into the heart of a father or elder
brother beloved! His arguments to disprove this notion allayed in a measure
my suspicions and greatly modified my fears. I again hoped! To-morrow I
felt would decide my fate in respect to my birth, and on the issue depended life
and happiness; for it I failed what other lineage could I claim! If I failed
how should I dare, branded as I was, appear in her presence as a suitor! I
should even shrink before the eye of Carryl.

But I will not detain my friends with my feelings. At an early hour I took
leave of Mr. Beufort, who sought his room; and being fatigued in body and
mind I threw myself immediately upon my bed without undressing. I know not
how long I slept, but it was dark and still when I suddenly awoke! A man stood
above my couch bending over me with a lamp in his hand, the light of which
he cast full upon my face! It was the stranger I had seen in my dream! It
was the gentleman whom I had beheld kneel before the marble figure upon the
cenotaph! His face was pale and haggard! The dark eyes were unnaturally
distended and brilliant. Yet over the whole countenance was a sad, touching,
tender expression as if deep grief lay upon his soul. He was steadfastly gazing
upon me when I opened my eyes I did not start! I did not feel alarm. I
lay passive and regarded him with an interest that left me no room for fear. Sad
and sorrowful though it was, a more noble, dignified human countenance I never
beheld, and his stature was as commanding as befitted such an aspect! He
did not seem to notice that I had opened my eyes. He was speaking as if to
himself:

`Such, such would he have been! But Heaven has robbed me of my reason
that my memory of all the past may perish and I never behold him again! It
is her brow! and such was the expression of her mouth! In infancy my boy
had it thus, and in manhood thus would he have looked! But I am mad! I
am accursed! She sleeps in death and I live as if there were no more death!
He opens his eyes and looks upon me, and such eyes were hers! Thus Isidore
looked when alive!'

I was deeply moved by his words and tone of his voice. They thrilled to my
soul. They awakened chords which had never been stirred to the sound of a

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

human voice before. Tears came into my eyes I knew not wherefore. But I
could not restrain them! A sudden impulse seized me! I felt that I could not
resist crying out `my father!' and rising and casting myself at his feet! But I
could not stir! I lay powerless, while he steadily regarded me a moment longer,
and then slowly turned away and crossing the chamber disappeared by a door
near the table at which I had been writing, but before unnoticed by me as it
was hid by the tapestry. I was left alone and in darkness! I could not sleep!
This incident filled my thoughts and gave them food for hours! That this gentleman
was my father I arrived at a suspicion that amounted almost to a certainty!
Had I discovered my parents to find one in the tomb, the other mad?
The thought filled me with anguish and horror!

At dawn I fell asleep, and three hours afterwards was awaked by the entrance
of Mr. Beufort. I told him what had passed during the night, and repeated to
him what had been said by the mysterious visitant! Mr. Beufort was for a few
moments thoughtful. He then looked up and divining my thought, said,

`I see what conclusion you have come to! It is irresistible in my own
mind! There is no doubt that you have discovered your father! But who he
is, remains yet to be ascertained; but he is, without doubt, of the Arlborough
lineage! We shall soon learn all. His Grace is looked for every moment. I
have foreborne to make any inquiries, or seek any information till I see him.
Breakfast is served in the anti-room to my chamber. Come and take it with
me. By the time we get through, the Duke will doubtless be here.'

I followed him with heavy and foreboding feelings. The idea that my father
might prove a lunatic, my mother no more, filled me with sadness; and
qualified materially the pleasure I should otherwise have felt at the prospect of
discovering my parentage, and finding myself in alliance with one of the noblest
houses in England.

I had just completed a hasty meal, when the sound of carriage wheels caught
my quick ear. I rose from the table and sprung to the window which over-looked
the approach to the Castle. In the avenue was a travelling chariot and
two horses with out riders, dashing at speed up to the terrace. Upon the panels
of the chariot I saw emblazoned the ducal coronet, and above it the crest,
an eagle trampling upon a serpent! My heart throbbed at the near approach
of the crisis of my fate! The carriage stopped; the door was opened, and, attended
by two footmen, a stout, martial, noble-looking person of sixty-eight or
seventy, with locks as white as snow, and plainly dressed in an olive surtout
and white hat with a broad brim, got out without assistance. He aided to alight
a beautiful girl of twenty and a stately elderly female of sixty still handsome,
whom Mr. Beufort, who was now at the window with me, said was the Duchess,
whom he had seen often in his ware-rooms in London when he was in
business. The younger female from her resemblance, he concluded was a
daughter; `Though,' added he, `I am not acquainted with any of the Duke's
children, nor do I know what family he and the Duchess has! But we shall
know soon. An important era of your life is at hand now, sir,' he said benevolently,
seeing that I was becoming a little restless and nervous, `but do not
have any fears. I have all confidence in the issue! After the Duke has

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

breakfasted, I will ring for a servant and send him my card, with a request to be allowed
the honor of an interview with him!'

`What shall you first say? How shall you introduce the subject, sir? You
are infinite kind to take all this trouble upon you,' I said, filled with gratitude
`If I was left to myself, I fear I should illy do my part.'

`That same energy which brought you to England would carry you through
whatever duty lay before you,' he answered me. `I have confidence in your
firmness and strength of character. All you are called upon for now is decision
and hope. The issue will be favorable.

While he was speaking a servant appeared, and said that the Duke, hearing
that two gentlemen from London were in waiting to see him, desired them to
be conducted at once to his presence.

`This promptness is characteristic of His Grace,' said Mr. Beufort. `In the
House of Lords he was always the most active and energetic man there, and
could get through more business in an hour than any other person in a day. He
is now in his seventieth year, yet has all the vigor and vivacity of forty-five!
You need not accompany me, sir,' he said as he was leaving the room. `I will
speak with his Grace first alone!'

Thus speaking he left me. I know not how I passed the interval of his absence.
It seemed to me to be hours. I paced my room! I tried to read! I
looked from the window! I busily run over in my fancy all that was transpiring
in the progress of the interview on which depended so much!

At length I heard Mr. Beufort's foot-step. I flew, and opening the door, admitted
him. His face wore a smile that chased a thousand dark thoughts from
my mind. He closed the door! I watched his countenance with painful intensity.
I dared not open my lips to ask him a single question; yet my bosom was
bursting with its fullness!

`My young friend,' he said, taking my hand after seating himself, `I have
had a most interesting interview with his Grace. He wishes to see you in a little
while. In the meantime I will give you an account of what passed between
us! I followed the servant down stairs into his Grace's library, where he was
seated at a table opening and reading his letters by that morning's mail. On
seeing me he laid down a letter he was perusing, and rising, offered me his hand.

`Mr. Beufort, I am happy to see you, sir,' he said with that frank cordiality
and ease of address which has made him so popular in public life and given such
a charm to his social intercourse. `To what lucky circumstance am I indebted
for this visit from you. It is not light occasions that brings London gentlemen
so far down into the country. It is long since we have met! Time, I am glad
to discover, has treated you kindly as well as myself!'

`Your Grace,' I replied, `I am most happy to find you enjoying such vigor
and health. Time has indeed spared you!'

He smiled and said, `Yes; I find I can yet engage in the sports of the field,
and sometimes take a five-barred gate still, if I am sure the ground is soft on
the other side! Caution comes with old bones and sixteen stone, Mr. Beufort!
Sit down sir. You arrived last night, my Steward informs me!

`Yes, your Grace. I have come,' I added, thinking it best to bring the subject
before him at once, `to see you in reference to a subject of the most

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

extraordinary nature, and one in which is deeply involved, the happiness and hopes
of an estimable person.'

He looked at me with surprise and curiosity, and said courteously,

`Proceed, Mr. Beufort. I will hear whatever you have to communicate.'

`My lord,' said I, `if I seem bold, and appear to you to tresspass the limits of
that courtesy which is due from so humble an individual as myself to one of
your exalted rank, I trust you will extend to me your clemency!'

`Speak freely, sir,' he answered—`From your manner, I see your business
with me is of no trifling import. I will be obliged to you to open the matter
freely to me!'

`I profoundly thank your Grace,' I replied; and then began by saying,

`Your Grace had a son by the name of Ferdinand?'

But the reply of the Duke, and the further account of the progress of the interview,
I shall leave to another letter.

CHAPTER VI.

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

Arlborough Castle,
August 4, 184—

I WILL now proceed to relate the particulars which my good friend Mr. Beufort
made known to me touching his interview with the Duke. I will give the
account in his own words:

`My first question,' said Mr. Beufort, `after being seated, was, as I have just
repeated to you. Did your Grace ever have a son by the name of Ferdinand?'

I watched his countenance as I asked this question which I had put boldly
and at once as being most likely to bring the matter to a point. He became
suddenly pale, and I saw was deeply agitated. He fixed his eyes upon me in
silence with painful earnestness for a few moments and then said in a broken
voice,

`Mr. Beufort, be so good, I beseech you, as to explain why you have addressed
so unexpected a question to me? I perceive there is something deeper in
your motive than mere curiosity.'

`I have a very strong motive, your Grace,' I replied; `I am influenced by
considerations that intimately concern the happiness and honor of a young
friend in whose behalt I have visited you and solicited the honor of this interview!
'

`Will you first be so good as to name your motive in making this inquiry?'
he asked, still regarding me with intense emotion in his countenance.

`It will give me pleasure to do so, your Grace,' I replied, `if you will condescend
to listen to me a few moments.'

`Proceed, Mr. Beufort,' said the Duke in a low voice, waving his hand to me,
and still looking distressed. I then began to relate to him the principal events
connected with your being left an infant at the Inn in America, and your subsequent
course up to the time I saw you in London, with your hopes, wishes,
and researches in reference to your parentage. But I did not mention the tokens
by which you were led to believe that you were related to his House. I
did not speak of the Silver Bottle, nor of the crest, nor the initials, nor the name
you had discovered. I gave him no reason, in the whole narration, to lead him
to suppose that your history had any reference to himself or any of his family.
He heard me through with patience, and not without interest at times apparent
in his countenance; but as I proceeded, the anxiety and agitation disappeared
from his expression, and towards the close he had recovered his calmness and
ease of manner.

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

`When I had ended he was silent and thoughtful a moment, and then said,

`This relation, Mr. Beufort, is certainly a very interesting one. The young
man you say reached London last week in this adventurous search for his family.
You told me he had certain tokens by which he hoped to trace his parentage.
I trust he will be successful, particularly as you say he is so worthy a
person, and, moreover, as you manifest so deep an interest in his welfare. Your
object, doubtless, in calling upon me is to enlist my interest in his behalf. I
assure you, my dear Mr. Beufort, it will afford me great pleasure if I can in any
way favor your views touching your young American friend!'

`I am under infinite obligations to your Grace,' I said; `the end I seek can
be advanced by your grace, by a reply to the question I put to you. That you
had a son of the name of Ferdinand I believe to be true; but I wish to know
particularly if he still lives, and if there has been any event of unusual occurrence
in his life!'

`This is a surprising question, sir?' he said somewhat sternly.

`I beg pardon of your grace, but I must be plain and bold to come to what I
want.'

`I had a son, named Ferdinand, Mr. Beufort,' he said, after a moment's agitation.

`He is dead then,' I remarked.

The Duke looked keenly at me, and then said in a sorrowful and peculiar
tone, `Yes, he is dead, dead, Mr. Beufort!—Why do you interest yourself in
him?'

`Pardon me, my lord; but I have reason to believe that the destiny of the
young American is, in a very intimate relationship, linked with his!'

As I made this assertion the Duke fairly started from his chair, and bent his
eyes upon me with extraordinary surprise.

`How mean you, sir? Your words seem full of some mysterious meaning.'

`I will explain, my lord Duke. If you will deign me a moment's calm attention,
you will understand the subject as clearly as I do myself. I hold here in
my possession the nursery bottle which was left on the bed with the infant!—
Upon it is a crest doubtless that of the parents of the child. Here is the bottle
which the young man has had in his possession from infancy!'

I handed it to him. He looked at the crest and was transfixed with amazement.

`It is the crest of my house!' he cried with surprise. `Do you say this was
left with the child?'

`It was, my lord!'

`It is very extraordinary” He mused a moment gazing upon it, and then
said, looking at me,

`On this you base your supposition, that there is some connexion between
this young man and my family?'

`I do, my lord Duke!' I answered.

`It is without doubt a singular comcidence,' he said, `and there are circumstances—
'

Here he suddenly paused, and a deep emotion passed across his features,—

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

`It is singular, sir; but this alone is not enough to prove him to be attached to
my house!'

`Was Ferdinand, your son, never married?'

`Yes,' answered the Duke in a voice of deep agitation, and for a moment he
turned his face from me, and hid it in his hands. I was silent till he was composed;
but was convinced that there lay at the bottom of all this emotion a secret
in which you, my young friend, were most deeply interested.

`Did he have any issue?' I asked, seeing him look at me.

`No!' he answered. `He had no issue!'

`It is very strange,' I said, perplexed at the reply so contrary from the affirmation
I looked for. He spoke, too, as if he was not deceiving me, or disguising
the truth.

`Why is it strange? Why do you refer to Ferdinand in this manner, Mr.
Beufort?'

`For this reason, my lord. Circumstances lead me to believe that the young
American is the child of Ferdinand, and doubtless by a private marriage, unknown
to your Grace; I mean a marriage prior to the one to which you have
alluded!'

I was proceeding when the Duke's expression arrested me. His face became
deadly pale, and he breathed quickly, while his lips trembled with powerful
emotion. He looked as if some strong and painful recollections of the past
were rushing upon him; at the same time I discovered in his countenance what
appeared to me to be awakened suspicion of the truth of what I had suggested.
Yet I was not sure that I rightly read it! I was moved by his distress and regretted
I had gone so far; for I was satisfied that with this son were associated
the most painful recollections. At length he said, forcing a calmness I saw he
was far from feeling,

`I must apologise to you, Mr. Beufort, for this emotion. I can best do it by
explaining to you the cause. I feel you are a man of judgment and feeling,
Perhaps something yet may come of all this; for your words have awakened in
my mind suspicions that I confess may have some foundation. Hear the history
of my hapless son, and then let us judge together touching the subject
more immediately before us.

`I had a son Ferdinand. He was my oldest son. Up to his twenty-seventh
year I never knew what it was to grieve for his conduct. He was handsome,
intelligent, high-spirited, generous, and devoted to me and his mother. He possessed
every grace that could adorn the high rank to which he had been born.—
He was our pride and the honour of our house. It was our wish to have him
suitably allied in marriage, and we had selected for him the lady Charlotte Bellingham,
the only daughter of the Earl of Neville, a lady of great beauty, and
endowed with every charm to fascinate and please, and possessed of every quality
that could adorn a wife! She was five years Ferdinand's junior; and we
knew that already her prepossessions were in his favor. We one day, without
anticipating a refusal, for Ferdinand had long known her, and seemed to be
pleased with her society, laid open to him our hearts upon the subject. To our
surprise he said firmly that he could never regard Lady Charlotte otherwise
than as a sister! After recovering from the first shock of his refusal, I

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

endeavored to urge upon him a change of opinion, and to show him that lady Char
lotte was the only suitable person by age and rank for his wife in the kingdom,
and that it was his duty to marry her. He firmly refused, and at length, to our
amazement, informed us that he was privately married to the daughter of a poor
baronet who lived not far distant, and a man whom I personally disliked. He
gave as the only reason for this step that he loved her, and that he could not be
happy out of her society, and that he would not purchase his own happiness by
her personal degradation. I threatened him with the displeasure of the King,
with immediate disinheritance in favor of his next brother, unless he at once
consented to a divorce; for this ill-advised union as you are well aware, Mr.
Beufort, was far beneath him, and it was my duty to annul it by the exercise of
my authority. He at once manifested a spirit of independence that surprised
and grieved us, and said that he would rather resign his rank than his wife!
Finding it impossible to prevail upon him, I dropped the subject. But, in the
meanwhile, I formed secretly a plan for separating them, by sending her away
privately to the Continent, where he should never hear of her again, trusting
time would cause him to forget this foolish passion!'

`Was the lady young and beautiful?' I asked.

`There was no fault to find with her youth or beauty, save that to her charms
was owing all this mischief. She was also of good temper and a well-cultivated
mind. But still she was no equal for the heir of Arlborough. By some
means Ferdinand discovered our plot, and defeated it by flying with his wife to
the continent. There, being found out by my spies, he fled France, and, as we
supposed, went to Italy!'

`He may instead have gone to America,' I said quickly.

`I have had reason to believe that while he was supposed to be secreted in
Italy he was in America. What you have said has deepened this impression!
At length weary of persecuting my son, for he was still loved, I wrote to his
last address promising to restore him to favor and his rank, provided he had yet
no issue; for none of the blood of Sir Richard — should inherit the ducal
crown of my house. My chief object in inducing him to return to England
was with the hope that I should yet be able to induce his wife by large sums of
money to leave him forever. But I saw that if he had issue, their union would
be yet more closely cemented.'

`And did he return?' I asked earnestly.

`Yes. Within three months after my letter was written he appeared in England
and came to visit me. To my question if he had any heir, his reply was,
I and my wife, my lord Duke, are alone in England. Your letter reached me
where I was self-exiled, and I accepted the terms. I am not insensible to the
rank and dignity of my birth and condition. I am proud of its honors. The
name of my fathers is precious to me. But I should feel unworthy to inherit or
to wear either if I could prove false to the lovely and confiding woman who has
in hour and trust given her hand and heart to me! Receive us both, my lord,
or receive neither of us! If I am to be honored as your son, honor her as your
daughter; otherwise we once more leave England, and leave it forever!'

`I felt it my duty for the present to assent to his views, and he and his wife
became inmates of the castle. But there was a settled sadness visible upon her

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

countenance. She seldom smiled. If she had not been the daughter of Sir
Richard — I should have felt interested in her; but as to this was added
the fact that she was the cause of our disappointment in the alliance we contemplated
for Ferdinand, she was regarded by us with coldness and displeasure
that I now feel,' added the Duke with a tremulous voice, `deeply sorry for.
Day by day she failed, and seemed rapidly approaching the grave.'

`Doubtless the reflection that she had marred the high hopes of your House,'
I said to the Duke, as he paused as if checked by emotion; `preyed upon her
mind and brought on a decline!'

Yes, and something evidently deeper still was upon her heart,' said the Duke
huskily. `Well, she died! Ferdinand up to the moment of her death had
watched over her with a devotion that was most lovely to contemplate. As I
regarded his tender devotion I almost repented my harshness to her; but this
feeling it was necessary to sacrifice to those higher ones which affected the
honor of my house. She died! From that moment a change came over the
mind of the widowed husband. He seemed to have buried his heart with her
in the grave. He would not quit the chapel where she lay entombed, and food
had to be brought to him or he would have perished. He spoke to no one!
He answered no questions! He did not smile! When I would approach him,
he would fix his haggard eyes sternly upon me, and with one hand pointing to
her tomb and the fore finger of the other raised to heaven, seemed to arraign
me before the tribunal of the Almighty as her murderer!'