"My lord, I care neither for rank nor wealth. The vindication of my mother's honour is dearer to me than either. I will not bear the title of your daughter branded with an epithet I need not name."
"Dorothy is right," replied Gerard. "I would not purchase her birthright on such dishonest terms. It would be a cruel injustice to both mother and daughter to let them bear the brand of shame, which a small sacrifice of personal vanity could remove."
The Earl remained for a long time leaning his head upon his clasped hands, without speaking. At length, looking up with a deep sigh, he said, "Gerard, you press me very sore. I declare to you that I would rather die than expose my mental weakness in a court of justice."
"It will clear your character from a foul stigma, my lord, the seduction of a beautiful young girl, and her supposed death in consequence of your desertion. But have you positive proofs of Dorothy being her child?"
"I had not, until the day before I wrote to Dorothy, and I obtained them by a most singular chance.
"When going up to London to meet my poor Edward, a wheel came off my carriage, and it required the aid of a blacksmith to repair the damage. I walked forward to the village, and went into a neat public house, while my servants found a smith. I thought I recognized in the master of the house an old tenant of mine, who had once kept a similar place of entertainment at Thursten, the village on the north of Hadstone.
"Years had changed me so much, that he scarcely knew me again. After talking for some time about indifferent subjects, he told me, that the very day before, he had stumbled over a letter, that was given to him by a poor, miserable, sickly young woman, who stopped at his house late one July evening, eighteen years ago, and begged for a cup of milk and a bit of bread for her child, a beautiful little black eyed girl, barely two years old. 'My missus asked her,' he said, 'who she was, and where she was going?' She replied,
"'That she had friends in Storby, whom she wanted to see. That she was very ill, and was going home to them to die. But in case she was too weak to get there, she wished me to send a letter she had in her pocket to Lord Wilton, as she expected that if he were at the Hall he would help her.'
"'I took the letter, and thought that it was only some begging petition, and of little consequence, and our people were busy in the hay-field, and I forgot all about it. In the autumn I removed with my family to this place. I heard of the death of a young person answering to the description of the poor young woman, who had been at my house on the night of the tenth of July, who had been found on the heath by farmer Rushmere, who had adopted the little girl, but did not trouble myself to go and see the corpse.
"'A few weeks ago, my wife died, and in looking over some of her little traps, to find a receipt, I stumbled on this letter, and though I daresay it is of little consequence to your lordship, or to any one else now, I may as well give it to you.'