“Thus, in every instance, save that of Old Death, have you succeeded in reclaiming those wicked people whose reform you took in hand,” said Sir John Lascelles. “Tidmarsh died tranquilly in his bed in the Island of Alderney—and the others still exist, worthy members of society.”
With these words the physician rose and took his leave; and almost immediately after he had quitted the library, the Earl of Ellingham entered, closing the door behind him with the caution of one who has some important or mysterious communication to make.
“Arthur, you have evil tidings for me?” exclaimed Mr. Hatfield, advancing towards his noble half-brother.
“Nay—they can scarcely be called evil, Thomas,” was the reply: “and yet—’twould perhaps have been better——”
“Speak! Keep me not in suspense,” interrupted the other.
“Charles—your son——”
“Ah! he has discovered his parentage!” cried Hatfield. “Yes—I am sure that this is the circumstance which you came to communicate;”—and he walked twice up and down the room in an agitated manner: then, suddenly turning towards his brother, he said, “How did this occur, Arthur?”
The Earl related the incident just as it had taken place, not forgetting the short but impressive dialogue which he had with his own daughter, Lady Frances, respecting the sudden and accidental revelation of the secret of Charles Hatfield’s birth.
“After all, I am not sorry that this has so happened,” observed the nobleman’s half-brother. “Sooner or later the truth must have been confided to my son—my dear son;—and since the secret may still be preserved in respect to the world and to those whom we would not wish to become acquainted with it——”
“Sir John Lascelles himself does not even suspect it,” interrupted Arthur. “It is known but to our immediate family—and Georgiana’s honour is as safe as ever it was. The breath of scandal cannot reach it.”