"It is not so very long," he said, "since you spoke to me of an inherited quarrel and injunctions of revenge. Such thoughts must be laid aside now. They were before uncharitable and wrong, but now they are actively pernicious. I shall have no comfort till I know that peace has been made."
Randolph subdued some rising impatience, and answered that he had conceived some hopes of so desirable a result.
"And, my dear sir," he continued, "we desire, Mildred and I, that you would hallow our union. As soon as possible we shall be re-married, and we hope for your blessing."
"Then the bride's parents must be present to sanction it," Polydore answered. "With that condition, nothing could afford me so great a pleasure."
Randolph sighed, and departed on his return to town. But his heart was much lighter than when he went. He had also much to do, and the necessary activity diverted his melancholy. First, he must call upon Rereworth, and learn the details of this confession of Everope's, which afforded hope of recovering his rights, and restoring his father's honour. For this purpose he bent his way straight to the Temple.
Seymour met him with congratulatory rebukes, uttered between jest and earnest, and declared that he would never have presented Mr. Morton at Mr. Winston's, had he been at all aware of his wicked ways. He also indulged in some facetiousness respecting the defendant's running off with the plaintiff's daughter, and remarked that a wife was scarcely a desirable commodity where there was no property at all either to give or receive. His tone showed his confidence in the approach of a happy dénouement. Randolph forced a smile, and turned the conversation to the story of Everope.
"Ah," Seymour said, becoming grave in his turn, "that's a bad business. He was to have sworn to his tale this morning, and when I went to see after him, he was no more. He died by his own hand. In the night. I have reproached myself ever since I parted from him yesterday, for allowing him to be alone. And now his death puts us in a little difficulty. I must become a witness. But there. You can read the narrative, as I took it down from his lips. And then we will go and talk over the affair at Winter's. I understand Everope's accomplice is now down in the country."
Randolph read the confession with eager eyes. He saw that Everope's remorse had perhaps originated in his recognition of himself at the trial, as having once offered to do him some trifling service. He wished he had arrived in time to repeat the offer, and possibly to save the spendthrift from destruction. When he had finished the perusal, he and Rereworth set forth on their way to Mr. Winter's offices.
They had to pass the foot of Everope's staircase. A group of persons, laundresses and porters, such as may often be seen gossiping in the inns of court, was congregated at the entrance, conversing earnestly, but in low tones. Rereworth made his companion acquainted with the few details he had been able to collect, or to conjecture, concerning the unhappy suicide.
He had gone to Everope's rooms in good time, to prepare him to attest his confession, and had even then been detained by a crowd like that which was still there. He made his way without much heed, being in fact preoccupied, and rapped at the spendthrift's door. The old laundress answered the knock, seemed greatly surprised when he inquired for her master, and raised the corner of her apron to her eyes.