When Mr. Playfair ceased to read, he found Lord Turnstock drowned in tears. His own flowed plenteously; and, taking the sick man's hand, "My Lord," said he, "let us not be ashamed, and call this weakness. There are tears which refresh the soul like dews of heaven. May yours be of this blessed nature! May you expiate past error, by seeking your future portion in a new course; and may our dear departed Hartland be the Mentor of your youth; the guide of your pilgrimage; the beacon of your way!"
"Will you henceforward be my friend?" answered the Marquess, with deep emotion. "I have learned a lesson, but impressions wear away, and vows made in pain are speedily forgotten. Let me be your pupil; direct me; warn me; counsel me."
The bond was sealed. Lord Marchdale was pronounced capable of undertaking a journey; and Mr. Playfair, who had surrendered all his own plans to devote himself to the purposes of benevolence, accompanied the poor solitary Earl to England; but his chief concern was for Zorilda. "How shall I break these fatal tidings, without endangering her life?" was a question continually present to the mind of her friend.
The travellers arrived at Henbury, and Mr. Playfair felt as a man of humane and tender feeling would naturally do, in placing his charge in that whilom abode of quiet cheerfulness, where its unfortunate master had long enjoyed the happiness of domestic peace in private life, under the care of an old servant, who had passed her youthful days in his family. Lord Marchdale was spared such anguish, as more acute sensibility could not have survived by the nature of his malady. Naturally phlegmatic, disease now rendered him more than ordinarily torpid; and he used to forget at times not only the extent of his deprivation, but the manner. At such moments it was affecting to hear him address his wife and son as if they were present, or speak of them as if he expected their return from a ride or a walk. Influenced, too, by the necromancy of association, he never passed by a shrub or flower, which had been planted by Zorilda's hand, without muttering the name of Zoé.
When Mr. Playfair had made all necessary arrangement for the bodily comfort of the invalid, he set out for Scotland, meditating sorrowfully as he proceeded, on the afflicting dispensations which it was his painful task to communicate at Drumcairn. Arrived at the same village where Zorilda had paused to consider of the reception which she was likely to receive, he wrote to Mr. Gordon, requesting a private interview at the inn. The dreadful particulars were soon unfolded; and Mr. Playfair discovered that his tale of woe was not altogether unexpected. Mr. and Mrs. Gordon had so repeatedly seen paragraphs in the public prints, touching on late events at Brussells with more or less obscurity, that their attention was at length awakened to some fancied coincidences with the Henbury family, and anxiety was daily on the increase, from Lady Marchdale's unusual silence. Her sister had written over and over entreating a letter, but not a line was received in reply.
The extreme delicacy of Zorilda's health made all excitement hazardous; and though she secretly pined with solicitude to be informed of all that passed in her absence, she could not bear to make inquiry, and trusted to a voluntary mention of the next intelligence which might arrive, trying to force her mind into tranquillity, but in vain. Her cheek sometimes glowed with momentary bloom, and her eyes sparkled with a transient ray of light and brilliancy; but it was fever which lighted up these evanescent fires, consuming as they were vivid.
Her kind friends, who watched her tender frame with parental vigilance, and perceived the silent progress of the destroying angel, resolved on avoiding to impart their own apprehensions, or communicate the suspicions which began to alarm them, to Zorilda, who, in addition to her too evidently declining health, "has now to sustain," said Mr. Gordon, "a trying scene, which as yet she has neither had strength nor fortitude to encounter."
"Within the last two days," continued he, "she has received a disclosure of the deepest interest from the rich and powerful Earl of Pierrepoint, who turns out to be no other than Zorilda's father. I have brought his letter in my pocket, knowing how affectionately you participate in the concerns of our dear child."
Mr. Gordon then read as follows: