“Mine, Morley,” returned the confessor coldly, “are the acts of a man fully awake to coming events. No papers shall rise in judgment against me;” and he pointed to the fire-place—“and, as you may perceive, I am preparing for a long journey on sudden notice. Have you been in your room since your return? I fancy you will find there a document laid upon your table.”
The steward instantly retired—his absence was short, and he entered the priest’s apartment with an open letter in his hand.
“Even so”—and his white lips quivered as he spoke—“‘Tis from the old man—brief, but to the purpose—I am rudely discharged, and—”
“Directed to give an account of your stewardship,” continued the priest; “which may not exactly be convenient. What do you purpose doing?”
“Avenge myself, holy father—leave Clifford Hall ‘a house of mourning’ and, through the son, strike the cold dotard to the heart. Yes, if ruin impends on me, I shall involve others in the vortex. This time to-morrow, the stern old man who turns me as contemptuously away as I would spurn a beggar from the gate, shall be, what through life, and by my agency, he has been—childless.—Farewell!”
He said, and left the apartment.
It is asserted that excessive joy, like agonizing sorrow, equally drives sleep away. When I retired to my conch, happiness and hope reigned in my bosom—and yet my dreams were light, my slumbers sound. I was early astir—but others were earlier still—and when I entered the parlour, I found the family party already collected.
Like all other breakfasts, ours ended in due course; the ladies retired; and Mr. Clifford, the Colonel, and myself, adjourned to the lawn, and there held a walking consultation. In fact, with his customary decision, my uncle had already made his dispositions. The intended bravos were denounced to the police; and at the very moment we were talking matters over on the lawn, Mr. Morley’s agents were in close custody in London.
It was necessary that another day should pass, before Mr. Clifford deemed it expedient to throw off his incognito. It wore away. At Bromley Park the inmates were variously employed:—my uncle, in carrying out his successful arrangements; my father, in ascertaining whether a false attack on the sea-face of San Sebastian might not have operated as an effective diversion; my mother, I suspect, in offering additional prayers to Heaven for my safe return; and Isidora and myself—but, pshaw! the communings of young hearts were never intended for revealment.—