The porter, whom he had aroused at the lodge gate, followed to take his horse. But the bell at the great door was rung twice, before there was any appearance of its being answered. At last he heard voices, as if in consultation within the door. He rung a third time. They receded; and in a few minutes, a window was cautiously opened above his head. He could not see objects in the darkness, but he looked up, and impatiently demanded to be admitted.
"It is my master!" exclaimed Lorenzo; and quitting the window, hurried down stairs. The door was instantly opened by him; while immediately behind, a little within the hall, stood Mr. Athelstone.
At sight of him, Louis felt that the object of his haste must be no more. The shaft of death seemed struck into his own soul, as he desperately stepped forward, Mr. Athelstone clasped him in his arms.
"Then all is over!" burst from his sealed lips.
The Pastor drew him into a room, and Lorenzo followed with a lamp. Louis stood so calm, so unshaken, under the belief that his friend was dead, that the affectionate Italian gazed at him with surprise. But Mr. Athelstone read under that fixed endurance, a sensibility to the shock he had anticipated, which made the good man only too eager to unfold his better tidings.
"Does my presence, my dear nephew," said he, grasping his marbled hand; "only speak of death? Your friend's fever has left him; and his wound has begun to cicatrize."
Louis had armed himself to bear the stroke of consummate grief; but this turn of joy being beyond his hopes, was also beyond his manhood, and with his first step towards the parlour door, he staggered and fell. But an insensibility which is the effect of happiness, is as mists before the sun. A few minutes recalled him to perception; and the blissful tears which flowed from his eyes, bathed the hand of the venerable messenger of such good tidings.
"They are full of peace to me!" cried Louis. "They ought to be so," replied Mr. Athelstone. And then his nephew listened with a chastized anxiety, while the pious man explained his own presence at Morewick; and that his first meeting with Cornelia, confirmed his suspicions that Duke Wharton was this secret and cherished guest.
"I went to him," continued the Pastor, "to arouze his spirit from the deleterious slumber of this world, ere he should sink into that sleep which might prove eternal. At the first sight of me, he knew me; and by that knowledge was confirmed in his own belief, that he was under a roof which belonged to you. I confess to you, Louis, that though I had suspected it, I receded a step, when I found that it was the treacherous Wharton! When I knew that by granting him this protection, you laid yourself open to the condign punishment he might escape! He who had cozened you of your friendship; who had rifled you of your father's honours and life."
"My uncle!" exclaimed Louis interrupting him.