Meanwhile gossip busied itself once more with the case. The news of the missing son was freely discussed. Opinions differed very widely. Some held stoutly that he was the man himself; others that barefaced imposture was meant, and would in the long run be brought home to the parties concerned. It was a repetition of the great Tichborne case, although on a much smaller scale. Then the so-called Herbert Farrington appeared, at first gaunt, wild, unkempt, from his long life in the bush, but unmistakably a gentleman still, and soon resuming the manners and tone proper to his birth and class. He was recognised at once by all survivors. Mr. Bellhouse knew him and could swear to him; so could Mrs. Larkins; the rector of Stickford-le-Clay had no doubt as to his identity. Last of all his mother, whose injustice had driven him forth, fell into his arms, imploring his forgiveness, and declared he was hardly at all changed.
He was in truth her own son. Like her impressionable, flighty, sometimes strange in his demeanour and ways. His whole life was indeed an evidence of these inherited traits. Another less sensitive nature would have given in sooner; but he so bitterly resented his mother’s harshness, that he would never bring himself to hold out his hand to her first. Then in his loneliness and isolation after his wife’s death, of which he had been informed, he broke altogether with the world, and flew to the wilds, from which, as we have seen, he was brought back with extreme difficulty at the eleventh hour.
But he arrived in time to turn the scale, and secure victory for his son’s cause.
Within a month or two of the termination of the trial, Herbert Farrington, bearing now his proper name, returned to the Rock. He was something of a celebrity, as the hero of a great trial which had been decided in his favour, and altogether a different person from the unknown Larkins who had aspired so high. He was well received—with one exception—on every side. He was fêted and made much of in his own regiment, and received cordial congratulation through the garrison and wherever he went. But General Prioleau was for a long time unforgiving. When an easy-natured man is embittered against any one, he is perhaps more persistent in his dislike than if his temper were more harsh. For a long time he held out against Herbert, and closed his doors to him. But continual dropping will wear a stone; and Mrs. Prioleau, who had now completely changed in her views with regard to Herbert, kept up a continuous flow of eulogistic words, before which the general gradually succumbed. How could he hope to hold his garrison when there were traitors within? He might refuse to see Herbert; but Mrs. Prioleau and Edith met him elsewhere, and the love-making went on in spite of him, under his very nose. Edith, too, when taxed with her misconduct, so plainly gave her father to understand that she would marry Herbert Farrington, and no one else, that the general was compelled at length to give way.
The marriage took place the same year. Captain Mountcharles felt it as a personal affront, and resigned his appointment, so Herbert was presently made aide-de-camp in his place. By degrees the general has been entirely won over by his son-in-law’s devotion to his duties, and brought, although tardily, to acknowledge his worth. Nothing will induce Herbert to resign his profession. His regimental promotion is assured, and as he is keen to take active employment wherever it offers—a desire in which Edith, a true soldier’s wife, always encourages him—he is certain to rise in the service and take high honours eventually as a thoroughly deserving ‘Son of Mars.’
Only a few words are needed to dispose of the remaining characters in this story.
It seemed as though old Lady Farrington felt, when the law-suit was won, that her mission was ended. She died happily, at peace with every one, in the following year. Her son, the new baronet, Sir Herbert Farrington, settled at the Hall for a time; but restlessness soon took possession of him, and he pined for the wilds which had so long been his home. When last heard of by his son Herbert he was at the head of an exploring party somewhere near Lake Tanganyika, and meant to be absent for some years.
As for Mr. Rupert Farrington, he retired into obscurity to eat out his heart with envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness. He was not overburdened with cash; but through young Herbert’s good offices a moderate allowance was made him from the estate, which was to be continued to the little Ernest, Mimie’s son. The Diggles also sank in prestige, and had to be contented with the modest income of a half-pay lieut.-colonel, for the great Cavendish’s private means disappeared in the crash of the tea mart, and Letitia has led him a terrible life ever since.
Last of all, brave old Sergeant Larkins and his worthy wife found themselves established comfortably on a corner of the Farrington estate, where the former grows roses, and the latter points with pride to the boy she once befriended and who now returns her kindness a thousandfold.