"Zorilda, these lines come from a parent's hand. Will you receive them with feeling answering to that which now sues for your forgiveness, and dictates a request that you will name the earliest moment for an interview with one for whom you have had little reason to entertain any sentiment save that of aversion. Since we last met, when an involuntary exclamation on my part proclaimed the relation subsisting between you and me, I have lost an amiable and high-born partner, who, after the marriage of my two daughters, now advantageously settled, was the only remaining bar to my acknowledgment of you. Had I claimed you before, I must have revealed a part of my early history, which might have injured others without benefiting you.
"Let me now taste the blessing of offering such expiation as is yet in my power, to the manes of that angel who was your mother. You will not withhold your aid in restoring the memory of her whose portrait you bear, whose living image you are, to the rights and privileges of a wife and mother, which can only be accomplished by your returning to the protection of your father's house, and assuming his name. In the eye of Heaven, as well as according to an accredited form of Christian ritual, my marriage, of which you are the sole pledge, was duly solemnized, and wanted only such circumstances to give it legality, as I basely took advantage of, to desert the wife of my bosom, and the child of my hopes. Urged to the unnatural deed by the unrelenting voice of worldly ambition, I lent myself to the views of family aggrandisement, and have been wretched all my life. United to another before the death of her whom I shall never cease to mourn, I could not adopt you as my legitimate offspring, without invalidating my second engagement; and to have brought you forward as less than my lawful progeny, would have but added fresh insult to the wrongs which you had already experienced at my hands.
"Zorilda, beloved child, a father supplicates forgiveness at your feet. Will you refuse pardon to such a petitioner? I have sought you at De Lacy castle, and sought you as my daughter. If my penetration do not greatly err, there is one of that family to whom you are an object of no common interest. Should my suspicions prove correct, to what joy may I not yet look forward? I have already obtained my sovereign's permission to add a title to your name; and twenty thousand pounds are ready for my dear girl, when I may be called upon to bestow the hand of Lady Zorilda Fitzhugh on Lionel Cecil, the man in all England most worthy of her heart.
"Return me one line by the messenger, and say when you will see your
"Father."
"This letter," said Mr. Gordon, "was immediately followed by one of the most enraptured congratulations from Miss Cecil, who it appears has been hitherto obliged to neglect her friend in compliance with Sir Godfrey's commands. What a metamorphosis will not worldly consideration effect! The despised, the slighted Zorilda receives homage now from the proudest pair in Great Britain. Sir Godfrey and Lady Cecil condescend to add their testimony to the merits of her who was so lately shaken from their presence as unworthy of the least regard: and I agree with Lord Pierrepoint in foreseeing that ere long an alliance will be solicited. Oh; that I might live to witness a union which could not fail of being blessed! But what a tale have you to impart! Alas, Zorilda!—and my poor Eugenia too. However dissimilar the character of Lady Marchdale and my wife, a sister and a nephew are not to be relinquished without a cruel pang, in this case pointed with tenfold acuteness from the awful manner of their death. Come, we have a dreadful duty to perform, and must commence the task."
Mrs. Gordon, who had long anticipated some unknown ill, was gradually informed of the terrible truth. Horror and astonishment at first forbid the relief of tears, and sent a frightful tremor through her frame; but tenderer feelings at length found vent, and a burst of natural sorrow came to her aid, and eased the suffocating oppression of her heart. Too habitually thoughtful of others' woe to indulge her own exclusively, this excellent woman after a short silence exclaimed, "Oh! may I join in the pious prayer of my dear departed sister, and say from the deep of my heart, 'Thy will be done!' This blow will fall heavily on my poor Zoé. It is to her that we should principally direct our attention, and as her father is to be here to-morrow, my counsel is to delay breaking this intelligence to her till after that so much dreaded interview. In the mean time I will talk to her of my own fears and ominous forebodings."
This advice was approved, and Mrs. Gordon subdued her own feelings sufficiently to visit Zorilda's bed-chamber, in which she had requested permission to remain all day, with calmness, and even an appearance of tender cheerfulness, while she endeavoured to strengthen a mind which had so much in prospect to endure.
"You must give a filial welcome to your father, my love, and bless the Almighty, who has sent such a host of kindness and protection in an hour of greatest need. He was beloved by the mother whose loss you deplore, and if the temptations of wealth and power were too strong for his wavering virtue to conquer, remember that he is now making all the reparation which such a case as yours will admit, and your duty is not only to receive the penitent with full pardon, but open your heart to the gracious influence of parental affection."
"It is not the creature's part to murmur, I know, dearest friend," answered Zorilda; "but so mysteriously woven is the web of my fate, that I am not allowed to see and believe, but faith is continually called upon, and much as I desire to stand firmly in the optimist's creed, which you are always enforcing, I find my rebellious spirit too frequently resisting conviction. I did indeed perceive how mercifully was this blessed asylum opened to me; when obliged to leave De Lacy castle I could not return to the home of my youth; but how can I rejoice now in any event which is likely to remove me from you and this peaceful retreat? How am I to bear the burthen of a sick and sorrowful soul in a world of gay smiles, enter upon a new sphere for which I am ill suited, encounter strangers whom I can never love, and give up those employments in which, by being suffered to do some little good, I learn submission to my own misfortunes? How can I leave this abode of rest, and cease to hear your dear voice? How shall I mingle in the scenes of what the world calls pleasure, with a breaking heart and failing health; or learn the joyless task of dressing my poor face in artificial gladness, while the asp is feeding on my life-blood? I have tried to pray, but I can only weep."