Poor Mr. Ellerton dropped into his chair, groaning in anguish. Oh, could he but burst his prison bars, what direful vengeance would he wreak upon his tormentor! He would trample him into the very dust; he would grind him to powder, for this shameful wrong.
Some moments elapsed in silence, while each was busy with his own thoughts, the squire full of irrepressible joy, and his captive’s heart beating with sad despair. At last the squire spoke:
“You seem to be enjoying this little drama so much, my friend, that I will proceed with it to the end. I have another cunningly devised fable to relate to you. As I said before, you know who my nephew is, and what his true name ought to be. I have made him acquainted with that fact, and planned a way for him to obtain it. I made a few alterations in the story to suit my own arrangements, however. I will explain why he was so ready to join me in my plans for your destruction. I told him that you were his father; that you pretended to marry his mother, who was my cousin; that you lived with her until you saw my darling, when your fickle heart turned to her, and her pretty face won you from your fidelity to his mother. Then you coldly told her that your marriage was only a farce, and you wanted nothing more to do with her, at the same time heartlessly informing her that she must henceforth take care of herself.”
“Wretch!——” began Mr. Ellerton, in a furious tone.
With a slight wave of the hand, and a taunting smile, the squire replied:
“Yes; he thinks you are a wretch. But please do not interrupt me again; it is very annoying. I told Ralph a pitiful story; how his beautiful mother begged and pleaded at your feet that you would not forsake her in her delicate situation, that you would not cast her and her child upon the cold charities of the world. But to all you turned a deaf ear, and went your way, and never saw her again. I also told him that you refused to acknowledge him as your son, but lavished all your love and all your wealth upon the son of his mother’s rival.
“The boy curses you from his heart, and believes himself your legal son and heir, for I have shown him a paper which proves to him that your marriage with his mother was legal. He joins me heart and hand, and as soon as our business is ended here, he will return and try to establish his claim to your name and fortune, which, you perceive, will be a very easy matter to do with the proofs he has in his hands. Do you not think it will be a proud day for your brilliant boy when he discovers his name and honor are claimed by another, and believes himself to be only a child of shame? And will not my revenge then be complete?”
“God will never allow such a foul lie to prosper—such a tissue of lies—such a wicked fraud to succeed,” moaned the miserable man.
“Ha! ha! God! What has he to do with it?” was the impious retort. “If you have a God, perhaps He will help you out of this fix. But I rather think that Ralph Moulton will win the day this time.”
“You have not told me what you have done with my son. I demand to know where he is.”