"Then, in broken accents, he asked me, his only son, to pardon his mistakes and cruelties—he asked me to forgive him, in my dear mother's name—he acknowledged his injustices towards her. 'Would that I might live,' he said; 'for my awakened conscience urges me to repair a portion of the evils I have caused—but it is too late. Strange that I should never have given ear to the whisperings of justice—though they were often audible—till now, when there is no help! Yet is it so? cannot some reparation be made? There is one'—and as he spoke he half raised himself, and some of the wonted fire flashed from his glazed eye—but he sunk back again, saying, in a low but distinct voice, 'Falkner—Rupert Falkner—he is innocent, I know and feel his innocence—yet I have striven to bring him to the death. Let me record my belief that his tale is true, and that Alithea died the victim of her own heroism, not by his hand. Gerard, remember, report these words—save him—his sufferings have been great—promise me—that I may feel that God and Alithea will forgive me, as I forgive him; I act now as your mother would have had me act; I act to please her.'
"I speak it without shame, my eyes ran over with tears, and this softening of a proud heart before the remembered excellence of one so long dead, so long thought of with harshness and resentment, was the very triumph of the good spirit of the world; yet tears were all the thanks I could give for several minutes. He saw that I was moved—but his strength was fast leaving him, and pressing my hand and murmuring, 'My last duty is now performed—I will sleep,' he turned away his head; he never spoke more, except to articulate my name, and once or twice, as his lips moved, and I bent down to listen, I heard the name of my mother breathed at the latest hour.
"I cannot write more—the trial will take place, I am told, immediately—before the funeral. I shall be in Carlisle—all will go well, dear Elizabeth—and when we meet again, happier feelings will be ours. God bless you now and always, as you deserve."
[CHAPTER XLVIII]
All things now assumed an anxious aspect; all was hurrying to a conclusion. To-morrow the trial was to come on. "Security" is not a word for mortal man to use, more especially when the issue of an event depends on the opinions and actions of his fellow-creatures. Falkner's acquittal was probable, but not certain; even if the impression went in general in his favour, a single juryman might hold out, and perverseness, added to obstinacy, would turn the scale against him. Sickening fears crept over Elizabeth's heart; she endeavoured to conceal them; she endeavoured to smile and repeat, "This is our last day of bondage."
Falkner cast no thought upon the worst—innocence shut out fear. He could not look forward to the ignominy of such a trial without acute suffering; yet there was an austere composure in his countenance, that spoke of fortitude and reliance on a power beyond the limit of human influence. His turn had come to encourage Elizabeth. There was a nobleness and simplicity of character, common to both, that made them very intelligible to each other. Falkner, however, had long been nourishing secret thoughts and plans, of which he had made no mention, till now, the crisis impending, he thought it best to lift a portion of the veil that covered the future.
"Yes," he said, in reply to Elizabeth, "to-morrow will be the last day of slavery; I regain my human privileges after to-morrow, and I shall not be slow to avail myself of them. My first act will be to quit this country. I have never trod its soil but to find misery; after to-morrow I leave it for ever."
Elizabeth started, and looked inquiringly: were her wishes, her destiny to have no influence over his plans? he knew of the hope, the affection, that rendered England dear to her. Falkner took her hand. "You will join me hereafter, dearest; but you will in the first instance yield to my request, and consent to a separation for a time."
"Never!" said Elizabeth; "you cannot deceive me; you act thus for my purposes, and not your own, and you misconceive everything. We will never part."
"Daughters when they marry," observed Falkner, "leave father, mother, all, and follow the fortunes of their husbands. You must submit to the common law of human society."