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There were no further discoveries. Doctor Louis engaged eminentlawyers to defend Emilius when his trial took place, but their casewas so weak that they held out no hope of a successful issue. Theypleaded hard and brilliantly, and took advantage of every vulnerablepoint. A great number of witnesses testified to the good character ofthe accused, to his consistent kindness of heart, to his humanity, toacts of heroism now for the first time made public. These efforts werenot entirely without effect. Emilius was pronounced guilty, but achord of sympathy had been touched, and he received the benefit of it.A strong recommendation to mercy accompanied the verdict, and he wascondemned to imprisonment for twenty-five years. Thus he passed away,and was as one dead to those who had loved and honoured him; but itwas long before they forgot him.
These events retarded for a little while the marriage of Gabriel Carewand Lauretta, and even the ardent lover himself had the grace tosubmit patiently to the delay. During that time he endeared himselfmore than ever to Doctor Louis and his family, by his tenderness toLauretta, and by his charities to the poor. His mind recovered itshealthy tone; his habits became more regular; he paid attention toreligious duties; and when the wedding-day arrived it was a day ofrejoicing in the whole village. He and Lauretta departed on theirhoneymoon tour amidst general demonstrations of love and esteem. Thesun was shining on their present and their future, and it may be trulysaid that never did bride and bridegroom go forth under more joyfulauspices. For weal or woe the lives of Lauretta and Gabriel werehenceforth one.
They were absent from Nerac for between two and three months,travelling through delightful scenes and climes, and their lettershome betokened that they were perfectly happy.
"For the first time," wrote Gabriel Carew, "I recognise the sweetnessand beauty of life. I have hitherto been wandering in darkness.Association with Lauretta has opened windows of light in my soul;heaven is nearer to me. How can I sufficiently thank you for theprecious gift of a nature so pure?"
Their honeymoon over, they journeyed homewards to Nerac. Carew hadgiven all necessary instructions with respect to his house, and it wasready for occupation upon their return. Martin Hartog had left thevillage, and was never again seen in it. No one knew whither he hadgone; he left no sign behind, and, having few friends, was but littlemissed, and was soon forgotten. Other changes had also occurred, ofinfinitely more importance to Gabriel Carew and his wife. The firstwhich arrested their attention and brought fear to their hearts wasthe health of Lauretta's mother, and Carew observed in Doctor Louis'sgrave and anxious face that the fear which smote himself and Laurettahad found a lodgment in the doctor's soul. She had grown thin and wanduring their absence; her limbs were oppressed with langour, her eyeswere dim, there was a wistful trembling of her lips. This was notimmediately observable, so profound was her joy in embracing once moreher beloved child, but Gabriel Carew was struck by it within a fewminutes of their being together. He did not, however, speak of it ofhis own accord to Doctor Louis. So deep was the love between thosefaithful souls, that Carew was fearful of referring to what mightprove to be not only a separation, but a destruction of happiness.Doctor Louis was the first to mention it. He and Carew were sittingapart from the mother and the daughter, who, embracing, were at theother end of the room.
"You have had a happy time, Gabriel?"
"Very, very happy."
"Our dear Lauretta is the same as ever."
"Yes. I would wish that she should never change."
"But changes come," said Doctor Louis with a sigh.
"Yes, unhappily."
"I am not so sure," said the doctor, with a trembling lip. "Yet whenthey do come, sooner than we expected in one we love, they are hard tobear. Faith in God alone sustains us in such a trial. To live a goodlife, a life without reproach, upon which lies no shame, a life inwhich we have endeavoured to fulfil our human duties--surely that mustcount!"
"Otherwise," said Carew, "the sinner would rank with the just."
"The sinner is the more to be pitied," said Doctor Louis; and then,after a pause, "Gabriel, you have been away from us for nearly threemonths, and are more likely to detect changes in persons and thingsthan those who are hourly familiar with them. Do you observeanything?"
"In what--in whom?" asked Carew, in a hesitating tone.
"In the dear mother," said Doctor Louis. "Is she thinner, paler, thanwhen you saw her last?"
"Yes," replied Carew, deeming frankness the best course; "she looks asif she had passed through a sickness."
"She has not been really ill--that is, she has attended regularly toher duties and has not complained. But she is drooping; I am filledwith fears for her."
"She looks better within these few minutes," said Carew. "Her eyes arebrighter, her cheeks have more colour in them."
"She has her dear Lauretta by her side," said Doctor Louis, his eyesfixed upon her beloved face. "It is the delight of the reunion thathas excited her."
"It may be," said Carew, "that Lauretta's absence has affected her.They have never been separated before. How often has Lauretta saidduring her travels, 'There is only one thing wanting--the presence ofmy dear mother and father!' Now that they are together again, the dearmother will grow stronger."
It was not so, however; the good woman drooped daily, and daily grewweaker. The remembrance of that brief time at the end of whichLauretta'a mother passed from earth to heaven, never faded from theminds of those nearest and dearest to her. Her illness lasted for notlonger than two weeks after Lauretta's return.
"She was only waiting for her child," sighed Doctor Louis.
It needed all his strength of mind and all the resources of his wisenature to enable him to bear up against the impending blow; and thesewould not have availed but for the sweet and tender words whispered byhis wife as he sat by her bedside, holding her hand in his. Laurettadid not leave her mother. The young girl-wife suffered deeply. Eventhe love of her husband, it seemed, could not compensate for the lossof the dear one, whose unselfish course through life had been strewnwith flowers, planted and tended by her own hands to gladden thehearts of those around her. The whole village mourned. Grateful menand women clustered outside the gates of Doctor Louis's house frommorn till night, anxiously inquiring how the invalid was progressing,and whether there was any hope. Simple offerings of love were hourlyleft at the house, and were received with gratitude. Her eyesbrightened when she was told of this.
"The dear people!" she murmured. "God guard them and keep them freefrom temptation and sin!"
These words were uttered in the presence of her husband and GabrielCarew, and they learned from them how her heart had been racked by theterrible events which had occurred lately in Nerac, staining the onceinnocent village with blood and crime.
"She loved Eric and Emilius," said Doctor Louis to Carew, "as thoughthey were her own sons. To this moment she has a firm belief inEmilius's innocence."
"Her nature," was Gabriel Carew's comment, "is too gentle for justice.Fitly is she called 'The Angel Mother.'"
It was a title by which she had been occasionally spoken of in thevillage, and now that she was lying on her death-bed it was generallyapplied to her.
"For the Angel Mother," said the villagers, as they left their humbleofferings at her door.
In his goings in and out of the house the good priest, Father Daniel,was besieged by eager sympathisers, asking him to convey lovingmessages from this one and that one to the Angel Mother, and--the wishbeing father to the thought--inquiring whether she was not, after all,a little better than she was yesterday, and whether there was hopethat she might still be spared to them. He took advantage of the sadoccasion to impress moral lessons upon his flock, bidding them purifytheir hearts and live good lives. It was remarked by a few that afeeling of restraint had grown up between Father Daniel and GabrielCarew since the latter's return from his honeymoon tour. Indeed, onFather Daniel's part, this new feeling must have been generated beforeCarew's return, and it
very quickly impressed itself upon Carew. Hewas not slow in paying coldness for coldness; his nature was not ofthat conciliatory order to beg for explanations of altered conduct.Proud, self-contained, and to some extent imperious and exacting inhis dealings with men, Carew met Father Daniel in the spirit in whichhe was received. No words passed between them; it was simply that thepriest evinced a disposition to hold aloof from Gabriel Carew, andthat, the moment this was clear to Carew, he also fell back, and didnot attempt to bridge the chasm which separated these two men who hadonce been friends.
So the days wore on till the end came. With each member of her familythe Angel Mother held converse within a few hours of her death.
"Be good to my dear child," she said to Carew.
There was no one else but these two in the chamber, and it was at herrequest that they were alone.
"My heart, my life, are devoted to her," said Carew. "So may I bedealt by as I deal by her!"
"She loves you as women do not always love," said the mother. "Youhave by your side one who will sweeten and purify your days. Nothought but what is tender and sweet has ever crossed her mind. She isthe emblem of innocence. In giving her to you I believed I was doingwhat was right. Do not question me--my moments are numbered. I havebeen much shaken by the fate of Eric and Emilius. You believe Emiliusto be guilty. Be more merciful in your judgments. With my dying breathI declare my belief in his innocence. It would be disloyal to one Iloved as my son if I did not say this to you."
"But why," asked Carew gently, "especially to me?"
"I would say it to all," she replied, "and I would have all believe asI believe. His poor wife--his poor wife! Ah, how I pity her! Help her,if you can. Promise me."
"I will do so," said Carew, "if it is in my power, and if she willreceive help from me."
"Lauretta and you are one," said the dying woman; "if not from you,she will receive it from my daughter. Before you leave me, answer onequestion, as you would answer before God. Have you anything hidden inyour heart for which you have cause to reproach yourself?"
"Nothing," he replied, wondering that such a question should be put tohim at such a moment.
"Absolutely nothing?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Pardon me for asking you. May no shadow of sin or wrong-doing everdarken your door! Lift your heart in prayer. If you have children,teach them to pray. Nothing is more powerful to the young as theexample of parents. Farewell, Gabriel. Send my husband and my daughterto me, and let my last moments with them be undisturbed." She gazed athim kindly and pityingly. "Kiss me, Gabriel."
He left the room with eyes overflowing, and delivered the message toDoctor Louis and Lauretta, who went immediately to the chamber ofdeath.
Father Daniel was in the apartment, praying on his knees. He raisedhis head as Gabriel Carew stepped to his side. The time was too solemnfor resentment or coldness.
"Pray with me," said the priest.
Gabriel Carew sank upon his knees, and prayed, by the priest'sdirection, for mercy, for light, for pardon to sinners.
Half an hour afterwards the door was opened, and Doctor Louis beckonedto his son-in-law and the priest. They followed him to the bedside ofthe Angel Mother. All was over; her soul had passed away tranquillyand peacefully. Carew knelt by Lauretta, and passed his arm tenderlyaround her.
When the news was made known, the village was plunged in grief. Theshops were closed, and the villagers went about quietly and softly,and spoke in gentle tones of the Angel Mother, whose spirit waslooking down upon them from heavenly heights. Early on the morning ofthe funeral the children went into the woods and gathered quantitiesof simple wild flowers, with which they strewed the road from DoctorLouis's house to the grave. The sun was shining, the birds weresinging, soft breezes floated over the churchyard.
"It is as the dear mother would have wished," said Doctor Louis toLauretta. "I remember her saying long ago in the past that she wouldlike to be buried on a bright summer day--such as this. Ah, how theyears have flown! But we must not repine. Let us rather be gratefulfor the happiness we have enjoyed in the association of a saintlywoman, an angel now--waiting for us when our time comes."
And in his heart there breathed the hope, "May it come soon, to me!"
The people lingered about the grave over which to this day the flowersare growing.
A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3) Page 4
