The Land of Bondage: A Romance

by John Bloundelle-Burton

And there was still one other meeting that took place which joyed my heart to see. 'Twas that of my husband and his faithful, old friend, Mr. Quin; the man who had sheltered him when he was a beggar, who had been as a father or an elder brother to him, and who, when 'twas no longer possible that he should serve Gerald, had transferred his honest, faithful allegiance to Gerald's mother. It pleasured me, I say, to see those two embrace each other, to hear my husband call him his old friend and protector, and to see the joy upon the other's face as he returned that embrace and told him how handsome he had grown and how noble-looking a man he had become.

[CHAPTER XXXI]

FACE TO FACE

All were assembled in the great saloon, or withdrawing-room, of the Marquis's house.

The day had come for that nobleman to acknowledge his kinsman, Lord St. Amande, as his heir before all men.

The Marquis of Amesbury sat at a table near the fireplace, on which lay, amongst other things, the papers that O'Rourke had signed and sworn to, the certificates of Gerald's birth and of his enrolment by Ulster King-of-Arms as the Viscount St. Amande in the peerage of Ireland, several affidavits from nurses and tutors to whom the lad had been put in the country, stating that the child delivered to them was always spoken of by the late lord as his son; and many other documents. At the end of the room were three witnesses who had been brought over from Ireland to testify that, to their certain knowledge and belief, Gerald was the lad they had known as the late lord's son. One of these witnesses was the Protestant clergyman of New Ross, now a very aged man; another was the steward of the estate where Gerald had been born; a third the nurse who had had him in charge from his earliest hours and had identified him by the marks upon his body.

Next to the Marquis, and on his right hand, Gerald was placed, and next to him I sat. On his left was no less a personage than the renowned Sir Robert Walpole, who had now ruled the country for many years, after having triumphed over all his enemies--even those who had had him dismissed from the Parliament and committed to the Tower. He was a man who, had one met him in the street, they would have been disposed to regard more as a jolly, beef-loving squire in London for a week's shopping and sight-seeing, than aught else. There, too, was William, third Duke of Devonshire--a courtly, grave gentleman, who had not yet, or barely, reached the prime of life; Lord Trevor and many others, to all of whom I was presented as the Lady St. Amande and future Marchioness of Amesbury. All greeted me most courteously, asking me many questions as to our colony and especially as to its loyalty, of which I was able to testify proudly, though I know not if I might have said as much of some of the more northern ones. The extremely polite, also, made me many compliments and, in their fashionable jargon, exclaimed that they trusted, now that I had shed the light of my eyes upon the mother country, I should never withdraw it wholly again. But these speeches I regarded only as foolishness and scarce worth answering.

And now the Marquis, addressing them, said:

"My lords and gentlemen and my good friends, you know what we are assembled here for. 'Tis for me to present you to my kinsman and heir. That I have already done individually; later on I shall ask you as a body to testify your willingness to acknowledge him as such. But first, and ere that is done, I wish to expose to you two villains--one of them, alas! also near to me in blood--who have long stood in the path of his lordship, who have endeavoured in every way to thwart his honest endeavours to come by his own, and who, in those endeavours, have assailed the fair fame of his mother, Louise, Dowager Viscountess St. Amande, who sits now behind that organ." And the Marquis pointed to a great organ made by Geisler of Salzburg in 1650, and brought by his father from there when making the grand tour.

'Twas there, indeed, that she had placed herself, being unwilling to be more regarded than was necessary, either by those who knew of her unhappy married days or who had known her in the full pride of her beauty. But as she had taken this place, where she could easily overhear all that passed, she had again reiterated her assertion that, should the two calumniators persist in their falsehoods and vile assertions, she would endeavour so to nerve herself to the task as to drag herself forward and confront them.