The Silver Bottle; or, The Adventures of Little Marlboro in Search of His Father

by J. H. Ingraham

  `What shall you first say? How shall you introduce the subject, sir? You are infinite kind to take all this trouble upon you,' I said, filled with gratitude `If I was left to myself, I fear I should illy do my part.'

  `That same energy which brought you to England would carry you through whatever duty lay before you,' he answered me. `I have confidence in your firmness and strength of character. All you are called upon for now is decision and hope. The issue will be favorable.

  While he was speaking a servant appeared, and said that the Duke, hearing that two gentlemen from London were in waiting to see him, desired them to be conducted at once to his presence.

  `This promptness is characteristic of His Grace,' said Mr. Beufort. `In the House of Lords he was always the most active and energetic man there, and could get through more business in an hour than any other person in a day. He is now in his seventieth year, yet has all the vigor and vivacity of forty-five! You need not accompany me, sir,' he said as he was leaving the room. `I will speak with his Grace first alone!'

  Thus speaking he left me. I know not how I passed the interval of his absence. It seemed to me to be hours. I paced my room! I tried to read! I looked from the window! I busily run over in my fancy all that was transpiring in the progress of the interview on which depended so much!

  At length I heard Mr. Beufort's foot-step. I flew, and opening the door, admitted him. His face wore a smile that chased a thousand dark thoughts from my mind. He closed the door! I watched his countenance with painful intensity. I dared not open my lips to ask him a single question; yet my bosom was bursting with its fullness!

  `My young friend,' he said, taking my hand after seating himself, `I have had a most interesting interview with his Grace. He wishes to see you in a little while. In the meantime I will give you an account of what passed between us! I followed the servant down stairs into his Grace's library, where he was seated at a table opening and reading his letters by that morning's mail. On seeing me he laid down a letter he was perusing, and rising, offered me his hand.

  `Mr. Beufort, I am happy to see you, sir,' he said with that frank cordiality and ease of address which has made him so popular in public life and given such a charm to his social intercourse. `To what lucky circumstance am I indebted for this visit from you. It is not light occasions that brings London gentlemen so far down into the country. It is long since we have met! Time, I am glad to discover, has treated you kindly as well as myself!'

  `Your Grace,' I replied, `I am most happy to find you enjoying such vigor and health. Time has indeed spared you!'

  He smiled and said, `Yes; I find I can yet engage in the sports of the field, and sometimes take a five-barred gate still, if I am sure the ground is soft on the other side! Caution comes with old bones and sixteen stone, Mr. Beufort! Sit down sir. You arrived last night, my Steward informs me!

  `Yes, your Grace. I have come,' I added, thinking it best to bring the subject before him at once, `to see you in reference to a subject of the most extraordinary nature, and one in which is deeply involved, the happiness and hopes of an estimable person.'

  He looked at me with surprise and curiosity, and said courteously,

  `Proceed, Mr. Beufort. I will hear whatever you have to communicate.'

  `My lord,' said I, `if I seem bold, and appear to you to tresspass the limits of that courtesy which is due from so humble an individual as myself to one of your exalted rank, I trust you will extend to me your clemency!'

  `Speak freely, sir,' he answered—`From your manner, I see your business with me is of no trifling import. I will be obliged to you to open the matter freely to me!'

  `I profoundly thank your Grace,' I replied; and then began by saying,

  `Your Grace had a son by the name of Ferdinand?'

  But the reply of the Duke, and the further account of the progress of the interview, I shall leave to another letter.

  Yours truly, MARLBORO'.

  CHAPTER VI.

  Arlborough Castle, - August 4, 184—

  I WILL now proceed to relate the particulars which my good friend Mr. Beufort made known to me touching his interview with the Duke. I will give the account in his own words:

  `My first question,' said Mr. Beufort, `after being seated, was, as I have just repeated to you. Did your Grace ever have a son by the name of Ferdinand?'

  I watched his countenance as I asked this question which I had put boldly and at once as being most likely to bring the matter to a point. He became suddenly pale, and I saw was deeply agitated. He fixed his eyes upon me in silence with painful earnestness for a few moments and then said in a broken voice,

  `Mr. Beufort, be so good, I beseech you, as to explain why you have addressed so unexpected a question to me? I perceive there is something deeper in your motive than mere curiosity.'

  `I have a very strong motive, your Grace,' I replied; `I am influenced by considerations that intimately concern the happiness and honor of a young friend in whose behalt I have visited you and solicited the honor of this interview! '

  `Will you first be so good as to name your motive in making this inquiry?' he asked, still regarding me with intense emotion in his countenance.

  `It will give me pleasure to do so, your Grace,' I replied, `if you will condescend to listen to me a few moments.'

  `Proceed, Mr. Beufort,' said the Duke in a low voice, waving his hand to me, and still looking distressed. I then began to relate to him the principal events connected with your being left an infant at the Inn in America, and your subsequent course up to the time I saw you in London, with your hopes, wishes, and researches in reference to your parentage. But I did not mention the tokens by which you were led to believe that you were related to his House. I did not speak of the Silver Bottle, nor of the crest, nor the initials, nor the name you had discovered. I gave him no reason, in the whole narration, to lead him to suppose that your history had any reference to himself or any of his family. He heard me through with patience, and not without interest at times apparent in his countenance; but as I proceeded, the anxiety and agitation disappeared from his expression, and towards the close he had recovered his calmness and ease of manner.

  `When I had ended he was silent and thoughtful a moment, and then said,

  `This relation, Mr. Beufort, is certainly a very interesting one. The young man you say reached London last week in this adventurous search for his family. You told me he had certain tokens by which he hoped to trace his parentage. I trust he will be successful, particularly as you say he is so worthy a person, and, moreover, as you manifest so deep an interest in his welfare. Your object, doubtless, in calling upon me is to enlist my interest in his behalf. I assure you, my dear Mr. Beufort, it will afford me great pleasure if I can in any way favor your views touching your young American friend!'

  `I am under infinite obligations to your Grace,' I said; `the end I seek can be advanced by your grace, by a reply to the question I put to you. That you had a son of the name of Ferdinand I believe to be true; but I wish to know particularly if he still lives, and if there has been any event of unusual occurrence in his life!'

  `This is a surprising question, sir?' he said somewhat sternly.

  `I beg pardon of your grace, but I must be plain and bold to come to what I want.'

  `I had a son, named Ferdinand, Mr. Beufort,' he said, after a moment's agitation.

  `He is dead then,' I remarked.

  The Duke looked keenly at me, and then said in a sorrowful and peculiar tone, `Yes, he is dead, dead, Mr. Beufort!—Why do you interest yourself in him?'

  `Pardon me, my lord; but I have reason to believe that the destiny of the young American is, in a very intimate relationship, linked with his!'

  As I made this assertion the Duke fairly started from his chair, and bent his eyes upon me with extraordinary surprise.

  `How mean you, sir? Your words seem full of some mysterious meaning.'

  `I will explain, my lord Duke. If you will deign me a moment's calm atte
ntion, you will understand the subject as clearly as I do myself. I hold here in my possession the nursery bottle which was left on the bed with the infant!— Upon it is a crest doubtless that of the parents of the child. Here is the bottle which the young man has had in his possession from infancy!'

  I handed it to him. He looked at the crest and was transfixed with amazement.

  `It is the crest of my house!' he cried with surprise. `Do you say this was left with the child?'

  `It was, my lord!'

  `It is very extraordinary" He mused a moment gazing upon it, and then said, looking at me,

  `On this you base your supposition, that there is some connexion between this young man and my family?'

  `I do, my lord Duke!' I answered.

  `It is without doubt a singular comcidence,' he said, `and there are circumstances— '

  Here he suddenly paused, and a deep emotion passed across his features,— `It is singular, sir; but this alone is not enough to prove him to be attached to my house!'

  `Was Ferdinand, your son, never married?'

  `Yes,' answered the Duke in a voice of deep agitation, and for a moment he turned his face from me, and hid it in his hands. I was silent till he was composed; but was convinced that there lay at the bottom of all this emotion a secret in which you, my young friend, were most deeply interested.

  `Did he have any issue?' I asked, seeing him look at me.

  `No!' he answered. `He had no issue!'

  `It is very strange,' I said, perplexed at the reply so contrary from the affirmation I looked for. He spoke, too, as if he was not deceiving me, or disguising the truth.

  `Why is it strange? Why do you refer to Ferdinand in this manner, Mr. Beufort?'

  `For this reason, my lord. Circumstances lead me to believe that the young American is the child of Ferdinand, and doubtless by a private marriage, unknown to your Grace; I mean a marriage prior to the one to which you have alluded!'

  I was proceeding when the Duke's expression arrested me. His face became deadly pale, and he breathed quickly, while his lips trembled with powerful emotion. He looked as if some strong and painful recollections of the past were rushing upon him; at the same time I discovered in his countenance what appeared to me to be awakened suspicion of the truth of what I had suggested. Yet I was not sure that I rightly read it! I was moved by his distress and regretted I had gone so far; for I was satisfied that with this son were associated the most painful recollections. At length he said, forcing a calmness I saw he was far from feeling,

  `I must apologise to you, Mr. Beufort, for this emotion. I can best do it by explaining to you the cause. I feel you are a man of judgment and feeling, Perhaps something yet may come of all this; for your words have awakened in my mind suspicions that I confess may have some foundation. Hear the history of my hapless son, and then let us judge together touching the subject more immediately before us.

  `I had a son Ferdinand. He was my oldest son. Up to his twenty-seventh year I never knew what it was to grieve for his conduct. He was handsome, intelligent, high-spirited, generous, and devoted to me and his mother. He possessed every grace that could adorn the high rank to which he had been born.— He was our pride and the honour of our house. It was our wish to have him suitably allied in marriage, and we had selected for him the lady Charlotte Bellingham, the only daughter of the Earl of Neville, a lady of great beauty, and endowed with every charm to fascinate and please, and possessed of every quality that could adorn a wife! She was five years Ferdinand's junior; and we knew that already her prepossessions were in his favor. We one day, without anticipating a refusal, for Ferdinand had long known her, and seemed to be pleased with her society, laid open to him our hearts upon the subject. To our surprise he said firmly that he could never regard Lady Charlotte otherwise than as a sister! After recovering from the first shock of his refusal, I endeavored to urge upon him a change of opinion, and to show him that lady Char lotte was the only suitable person by age and rank for his wife in the kingdom, and that it was his duty to marry her. He firmly refused, and at length, to our amazement, informed us that he was privately married to the daughter of a poor baronet who lived not far distant, and a man whom I personally disliked. He gave as the only reason for this step that he loved her, and that he could not be happy out of her society, and that he would not purchase his own happiness by her personal degradation. I threatened him with the displeasure of the King, with immediate disinheritance in favor of his next brother, unless he at once consented to a divorce; for this ill-advised union as you are well aware, Mr. Beufort, was far beneath him, and it was my duty to annul it by the exercise of my authority. He at once manifested a spirit of independence that surprised and grieved us, and said that he would rather resign his rank than his wife! Finding it impossible to prevail upon him, I dropped the subject. But, in the meanwhile, I formed secretly a plan for separating them, by sending her away privately to the Continent, where he should never hear of her again, trusting time would cause him to forget this foolish passion!'

  `Was the lady young and beautiful?' I asked.

  `There was no fault to find with her youth or beauty, save that to her charms was owing all this mischief. She was also of good temper and a well-cultivated mind. But still she was no equal for the heir of Arlborough. By some means Ferdinand discovered our plot, and defeated it by flying with his wife to the continent. There, being found out by my spies, he fled France, and, as we supposed, went to Italy!'

  `He may instead have gone to America,' I said quickly.

  `I have had reason to believe that while he was supposed to be secreted in Italy he was in America. What you have said has deepened this impression! At length weary of persecuting my son, for he was still loved, I wrote to his last address promising to restore him to favor and his rank, provided he had yet no issue; for none of the blood of Sir Richard — should inherit the ducal crown of my house. My chief object in inducing him to return to England was with the hope that I should yet be able to induce his wife by large sums of money to leave him forever. But I saw that if he had issue, their union would be yet more closely cemented.'

  `And did he return?' I asked earnestly.

  `Yes. Within three months after my letter was written he appeared in England and came to visit me. To my question if he had any heir, his reply was, I and my wife, my lord Duke, are alone in England. Your letter reached me where I was self-exiled, and I accepted the terms. I am not insensible to the rank and dignity of my birth and condition. I am proud of its honors. The name of my fathers is precious to me. But I should feel unworthy to inherit or to wear either if I could prove false to the lovely and confiding woman who has in hour and trust given her hand and heart to me! Receive us both, my lord, or receive neither of us! If I am to be honored as your son, honor her as your daughter; otherwise we once more leave England, and leave it forever!'

  `I felt it my duty for the present to assent to his views, and he and his wife became inmates of the castle. But there was a settled sadness visible upon her countenance. She seldom smiled. If she had not been the daughter of Sir Richard — I should have felt interested in her; but as to this was added the fact that she was the cause of our disappointment in the alliance we contemplated for Ferdinand, she was regarded by us with coldness and displeasure that I now feel,' added the Duke with a tremulous voice, `deeply sorry for. Day by day she failed, and seemed rapidly approaching the grave.'

  `Doubtless the reflection that she had marred the high hopes of your House,' I said to the Duke, as he paused as if checked by emotion; `preyed upon her mind and brought on a deeline!'

  Yes, and something evidently deeper still was upon her heart,' said the Duke huskily. `Well, she died! Ferdinand up to the moment of her death had watched over her with a devotion that was most lovely to contemplate. As I regarded his tender devotion I almost repented my harshness to her; but this feeling it was necessary to sacrifice to those higher ones which affected the honor of my house. She died! From that moment a ch
ange came over the mind of the widowed husband. He seemed to have buried his heart with her in the grave. He would not quit the chapel where she lay entombed, and food had to be brought to him or he would have perished. He spoke to no one! He answered no questions! He did not smile! When I would approach him, he would fix his haggard eyes sternly upon me, and with one hand pointing to her tomb and the fore finger of the other raised to heaven, seemed to arraign me before the tribunal of the Almighty as her murderer!'

  CHAPTER VII.

  Arlborough Castle, - August, 4th, 1844.

  `When the Duke had thus spoken,' continued Mr. Beufort, `he buried his face in his hands, sighed heavily, and seemed to be overcome with the most touching anguish. There was a few moment's silence: and when at length he raised his head and looked at me I saw he was deadly pale.

  `You see me, sir, a wretched man,' he said bitterly. `I can never forgive myself the wrong done that innocent wife. I am punished in my son! He is a maniac, sir! not fierce and intractable, but quiet, touching, gentle. As he would not leave the tomb where his wife lay buried, I caused to be erected the cenotaph which you beheld in the circular hall, to draw him from it I succeeded. Near it he has a room which he only leaves to kneel almost every hour before the marble figure of her he loved so well. It is so long,' continued the Duke after a sorrowful pause, `it is so long since these events occurred that my son is supposed to be dead, for no one sees him. He receives from me every attention and kindness, but seems to regard me with cold indifferene. It was he whom you beheld bending over the young man.'