"Though guilty of a terrible crime, I have never been able to banish her from my heart—where she must ever remain, as one of the most beautiful visions of childhood.
"Poor, gentle, affectionate, ill-used mother, with a heart brimful of love and kindness, how dreadful the conflict must have been, between duty to a husband who never loved her, and fidelity to the man by whom she was passionately loved. Terrible must have been her mental struggles, before she resolved to burst those sacred ties asunder, and leave for ever the children so dear to her.
"Was she more guilty than the husband, who in defiance of his marriage vows, lived in open adultery with another woman, on whose children he bestowed the parental love he withheld from those born in lawful wedlock, wasting the noble fortune he obtained through his injured wife among disreputable companions, in low scenes of debauchery and vice.
"The world can always extenuate the fault of the male offender, and lay the blame solely upon his unhappy partner; insinuating that faults of temper, and a want of sympathy in his tastes and pursuits, was most probably the cause of his estrangement—unscrupulously branding her name with scorn and infamy.
"There is One, however, who weighs in an equal balance the cause and the effects produced by it in the actions of men, who will judge her more leniently. The merciful Saviour who said to the erring woman, dragged into His presence to be made a public example and put to a cruel death, 'Woman where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee? Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more.'
"Oh, how my bosom thrilled and my heart burned within me, when I read that text seriously for the first time, and thought of my poor mother, and was comforted with the blessed hope that she, too, might be forgiven."
Gerard's voice faltered, and Dorothy felt the strong frame tremble with emotion, but the stronger will conquered the human weakness, and he continued:
"My father's sense of honour, in the world's acceptation of the term, was stung by the desertion of his neglected wife. He learned that the fugitives had been seen in Paris, and lost no time in tracing them out. A duel was the result, in which my father received a mortal wound. His body was brought home and buried with due pomp in the family vault. My brother was seven years of age; myself a little chubby boy in frocks and trowsers; and we had to act as chief mourners in that melancholy pageant. We saw the coffin that contained the mortal remains of our father, the once handsome and admired Colonel Fitzmorris, placed in due form among the forgotten members of his ancient house; and after the nine days wonder was over, he was as much forgotten by his fashionable associates as if he had never been. The night before my father died by the hand of the man who had dishonoured him, he made a will leaving everything he possessed to my brother Francis. The settlement made from my mother's property on younger children, alone falling to my share. As there were no other younger children, and the property was considerable, I was nearly as independent as my brother.
"We were left to the guardianship of the Earl of Wilton, who you will remember was our maternal grandfather. The brothers Fitzmorris having married two daughters of that noble house, and females not being excluded from the succession, Sir Thomas Fitzmorris, the present Earl's elder brother, was the heir presumptive to the title and estates.
"Lord Wilton was a cold proud man of the world, and the slur that my mother's elopement, and subsequent marriage with General Halstead, had cast upon the family, did not enhance his love for her children.