Here was a beginning after Catharine’s own heart, but its effect was somewhat spoiled by Charles Ingleby, who called out familiarly from his corner: “Faith, Stanley, you run far more risk in Kate’s hands of having ‘much set down in malice.’ ”
“Silence in the court, Mr. Ingleby!” cried his wife, trying very hard not to smile.
“Oh! I am the court, am I?” persisted Charles, “then I can almost say with Louis the Fourteenth, ‘L’état c’est moi.’ ”
“Oh, Charles! I wish you would not interrupt me to show off your learning,” cried Catharine, who began to feel her comedy fast degenerating into farce; but determined to make a certain speech which she had prepared for the occasion, she quickly composed her features—compressed her lips, and thus began:
“James Stanley! I do accuse you, in presence of these witnesses here assembled,” (here Charles muttered something about its being quite true that he was a host within himself, but Catharine went steadily on,) “I do accuse you of having basely insinuated yourself into the affections of this damsel, (Ada, be quiet) insomuch that she hath eyes for no one else—and this you have done under false colors and a false name. Therefore, I here pronounce you traitor and impostor, and denounce you to the said damsel by the name you blush to bear—the infamous name of James Darrington!”
“James Darrington!” exclaimed Ada, in a tone of the deepest emotion. “Yes, yes,” murmured she, “my heart spoke truly—from its depths I heard his name, even before—before—” she paused and timidly raised her eyes to her lover’s countenance. That smile! she had seen it in her dreams—those eyes, so tenderly riveted upon her! how often had their glance awakened in her soul vague recollections of something loved and forgotten. Her heart beat violently, and pressing her hands to her eyes, her over-wrought feelings found relief in tears.
But they were tears of joy, and while they flow undisturbed, we must defend James Darrington from the serious charges preferred against him by Mrs. Ingleby.
It will be remembered that at the time of Mr. Darrington’s death, he resided in Paris. Partly by the expenses entailed upon him by his position as American minister, partly by the failure of banks at home, he became so involved, that at his death, a mere pittance remained for the support of his widow and son. Mrs. Darrington decided upon an immediate return to America, but her plans were changed by the reception of a letter from a near relative, then residing in England. The letter was not simply one of condolence—Mr. Stanley offered a home to his impoverished niece, and before she had time to accept or refuse his proposal, it was followed by himself in person.
The parties were mutually pleased. Mrs. Darrington was prepossessed in favor of her uncle, by his resemblance to her father, and he, without ties, seemed anxious to find an object for his tenderness in the person of his brother’s only child.
Thenceforward Julia, and Julia’s son, became the first objects in his heart. To minister to the happiness of the mother, and to shower every advantage of education that wealth can confer upon the child, seemed the aims of his existence.