He rose feebly, and kneeled by his chair; and though I could hear the sobs bursting from his overflowing heart, he arose composed, and refreshed.
The Doctor endeavored to change the conversation for a few moments; but he smiled as he said, "I perceive your kind intention, but I can at present think of nothing else. It will not injure me."
In the course of the interview he said that for many years he had been longing to go home; but for the sake of his son, he had taken every measure to prolong his life. "Eugene's," he added, "is a singular case. I am not aware that he has a single relative on his mother's side; and none nearer than two or three removes on mine. He has a lovely disposition, though perhaps I may be deemed partial in saying so."
"His adopted mother says the same," I added.
With an ardent expression of gratitude, he continued, "but his yielding temper only leaves him more at the mercy of a cold cruel world. Oh! how many hours of sorrow I have spent in imagining his future, and fearing he might be left to suffer like his father. Eugene remembers little or nothing of his early life. I have never been able to converse with him upon subjects connected with his"—The voice was so low I could not distinguish the rest of the sentence. "I have prepared," he added, "some papers which throw light upon some subjects, which it is natural and right he should know at a proper age. I should be glad to leave them in your hands when I go, with the request that he should have them when he attains his majority. I should also be glad, if Eugene were so inclined, to have him keep this small estate, that the cemetery may not be molested. The steward, who has lived in it for many years, would be glad to continue in it, and give him a suitable rent for the house and furniture. One thing more, and I shall have done for this morning. I fear that I have already taxed you too long. I wish a small monument in every respect like the one in yonder grave yard, placed above my remains, with the single word 'Harry' inscribed upon it. I have already given directions to have my body placed by her side. Now," said he, "receive once more the gratitude of a father, who perceives in your pledge of kindness to his son, a new proof of forgiveness and assurance of pardon and love from his heavenly Father."
Friday, February 21st.
For several days I have spent much of my time with Colonel Clifford, who after our interview respecting his son, appeared to fail rapidly. On Monday morning the Doctor and I called, and Eugene took the opportunity to go out for his exercise. "Dr. Lenox," said the invalid, "there is one subject, I inadvertently omitted at our late interview, and which I may as well mention at this time. My name is not Henry Clifford, as you suppose, but Henry Clifford Shirley."
Frank sprang to his feet, and was on the point of catching his friend by the hand, but remembering the feebleness of the Colonel, and the danger to him of any sudden excitement, he resumed his seat.
"It is entirely immaterial to me which name Eugene retains," said he, not appearing to have noticed anything unusual in the Doctor's manner, "but as all his property stands registered in the name of Shirley, it was highly desirable that you should be aware of the fact."
Frank walked back and forth across the room evidently very much perplexed how to introduce the communication he wished to make. At length he sat down by the side of the sufferer, and gently said, "Colonel Clifford, many years ago I received a confession from a dying man in relation to a gentleman by the name of Henry Shirley, who was a Colonel in his Majesty's service. I have endeavored in vain to find such a gentleman, in order to confide the confession to him, according to the desire of the penitent man."