“Oh, may you be more happy than either of us!” was all Hilda said, as she looked at the sweet face beaming up at her.
A gentleman followed Colonel Armytage into the room. Hilda looked towards him as if to inquire who he was.
“He is Mr Boland, my legal adviser,” said the colonel. “I thought it wiser to bring him, in case any difficulties should arise about the succession to this property.”
“What difficulties can arise—what doubts are there?” inquired Hilda, in an agitated tone.
“Matters will be explained to you, madam, shortly,” answered Colonel Armytage, suspecting that Hilda had not heard of the discovery of her son.
He was not a man who would have attempted to prevent him from obtaining his rights, but he had not virtue enough to resist the wish that he might, after all, never appear to claim them.
The meeting between Sir Marcus Wardhill and his once favourite daughter was very painful. He scarcely aroused himself to greet her.
“You have come a long distance, daughter, and have been a long time coming,” he said, putting out his hand, and looking up coldly in her face. “I suppose you feared the old man might die and leave his wealth elsewhere; it was that made you come, Edda?”
Mrs Armytage, with her eyes full of tears, stooped down and kissed the old man’s forehead. “Father, no—do not be so cruel as to speak thus,” she sobbed out. “Money I have never coveted. You sent for Colonel Armytage; you desired us to accompany him, and most gladly we came; but it was to see you, and you only, dear father.”
“Ah, so I did—now I recollect,” said Sir Marcus. “I never loved him and he never loved me, but he is a man—he has sense; he knows the world; he can rule a disorderly household. Go out, all of you. Let him come in; we have matters to arrange, and no time is to be lost. Go, go quickly!”