"I cannot obey you, sir," said Arthur sadly and firmly. "You have broken the tie which bound us. I will never enter your house again; nor will I share your dishonour. Justice shows me the road where duty lies, and I will follow it."
He held out his hand to the Duchess; she accepted it, and clasped it in love and wonder; and passing his disengaged arm around Mrs. Lenoir's waist, he turned his back upon his father, and took the road which justice pointed out to him.
* * * * * *
But a short distance from the country place in which Seth Dumbrick and the children of his adoption spent their holiday, is a pretty and comfortable residence standing in its own grounds. Here lives Nelly Marston and her daughter, no longer bearing the name of the Duchess of Rosemary Lane, but the more simple and natural one of Kate. Happily the faults of our young heroine are not uneradicable, and under the loving ministration of her devoted mother she is gradually developing a sweetness and simplicity of nature which will bear good fruit in the future. The long-suffering mother is happy beyond her wildest hopes, and night and morning she bends her knees in gratitude, and offers up prayers of thankfulness for the life of love she is enjoying. That she is enabled to live this life in ease and comfort is due to Arthur Temple, who, having some private fortune of his own through a legacy left to him in childhood, is able in this way to make some compensation to the trusting woman whom his father betrayed. He comes to the happy home at intervals, and calls Kate his sister, and pays to Kates' mother a respect in which something of reverence finds a place. To this home, also, every fortnight, come Seth Dumbrick and Sally, from Saturday afternoon to Monday morning, and at rarer intervals Nelly Marston and her daughter pay visits to Rosemary Lane, and pass happy hours in Seth's cellar.
So much for the present. What lies in the future?
It may be that Arthur Temple and his father may become reconciled, but the old ties are broken, and in the son's future the father shall play no part. The father's head is no longer erect and proud: his sin has found him out, and his dearest hopes are crushed. It is just.
It may be that our heroine may meet with a man who will woo her honourably, and that when she has children of her own, the better lessons which her mother is imparting will prove to be indeed the best blessing which could fall to her lot.
But it cannot be that Nelly Marston's happiness shall be greater than it is at present. It is full and perfect, and the past is atoned for. Despite the verdict which too censorious people might pass upon her, Nelly Marston's home is a home of innocence and virtue.