 Part 9 of the Old English Barron. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Mary Ann Spiegel, Chicago, Illinois. The Old English Barron, a gothic story by Claire Reeve. Part 9. About an hour after, the wounded man complained of thirst. He asked for the surgeon and inquired if his life was in danger. The surgeon answered him doubtfully. He asked, Where is Sir Philip Harclay in the castle? Where is that young man whom he calls the air of love? He is here, too. That I am surrounded with my enemies. I want to speak to one of my own servants without witnesses. Let one be sent to me. The surgeon withdrew and acquainted the gentleman below. He shall not speak to any man, said Sir Philip, but in my presence. He went with him into the sick man's room. Upon the sight of Sir Philip, he seemed in great agitation. Am I not allowed to speak with my own servant? said he. Yes, Sir, you may, but not without witnesses. Then I am a prisoner, it seems. No, not so, Sir. But some caution is necessary at present. But compose yourself. I do not wish for your death. Then why do you seek it? I never injured you. Yes, you have, in the person of my friend, and I am only the instrument of justice in the hand of heaven. Endeavour to make atonement while life is spared to you. Shall I send the priest to you? Perhaps he may convince you of the necessity of restitution in order to obtain forgiveness of your sins. Sir Philip sent for the priest and the surgeon, and obliged the servant to retire with him. I leave you, sir, in the care of these gentlemen, and whenever a third person is admitted, I will be his attendant. I will visit you again within an hour. He then retired and consulted his friends below. They were of the opinion that no time should be lost. You will, then, he said, accompany me into the sick man's apartment in an hour's time. Within the hour, Sir Philip, attended by Lord Clifford and Lord Graham, entered the chamber. Lord Lovell was in great emotion. The priest stood on one side of the bed, the surgeon on the other. The former exhorted him to confess his sins. The other desired he might be left to his repose. Lord Lovell seemed in great anguish of mind. He trembled and was in the utmost confusion. Sir Philip entreated him, with the piety of a confessor, to consider his soul's health before that of his body. He then asked Sir Philip by what means he knew that he was concerned in the death of his kinsmen. Sir, replied he, it was not merely by human means this fact was discovered. There is a certain apartment in the castle of Lovell that has been shut up these one and twenty years, but has lately been opened and examined into. Oh, heaven! exclaimed he, then Jeffrey must have betrayed me. No, Sir, he has not. It was revealed in very extraordinary manner to that youth, whom it most concerns. How can he be the heir of Lovell, by being the son of that unfortunate woman who'd mew cruelly obliged to leave her house, to avoid being compelled to wed the murderer of her husband? We are not ignorant, moreover, of the fictitious funeral you made for her. All is discovered, and you will not tell us any more than we know already, but we desire to have it confirmed by your confession. The judgments of heaven are fallen upon me, said Lord Lovell. I am childless, and what is arisen from the grave to claim my inheritance. Nothing then hinders you to do justice and make restitution. It is for the ease of your conscience, and you have no other way of making atonement for all the mischief you have done. You know too much, said the criminal, and I will relate what you do not know. You may remember, proceeded he, that I saw you once at my uncle's house. I well remember it. At that time my mind was disturbed by the baleful passion of envy. It was from that root all my bad actions sprung. Praise be to God, said the good priest. He had touched your heart with true contrition, and you show the effect of his mercies. You will do justice, and you will be rewarded by the gift of repentance unto salvation. Sir Philip desired the penitent to proceed. My kinsman excelled me in every kind of merit, in the graces of person and mind, in all his exercises, and in every accomplishment. I was totally eclipsed by him, and I hated to be in his company. But what finished my aversion was his addressing the lady upon whom I had fixed my affections. I strove to rival him there, but she gave him the preference that, indeed, was only his due. But I could not bear to see it or acknowledge it. The most bitter hatred took possession of my breast, and I vowed to revenge the supposed injury as soon as the opportunity should offer. I buried my resentment deep in my heart, and outwardly appeared to rejoice at his success. I made a merit of resigning my pretensions to him, but I could not bear to be present at his nuptials. I retired to my father's seat and brooded over my revenge and secret. My father died this year, and soon after my uncle followed him. Within another year my kinsman was summoned to attend the king on his Welsh expedition. As soon as I heard he was gone from home, I resolved to prevent his return, exalting in the prospect of possessing his title, fortune, and his lady. I hired messengers who were constantly going and coming to give me intelligence of all that passed at the castle. I went there soon after, under pretense of visiting my kinsman. My spies brought me an account of all that happened. One informed me of the event of the battle, but could not tell whether my rival was living or dead. I hoped the latter that I might avoid the crime I meditated. I reported his death to his lady, who took it very heavily. Soon after another messenger arrived with tidings that he was alive and well and had obtained leave to return home immediately. I instantly dispatched my two emissaries to intercept him on the way. He had made so much haste to return that he was met within a mile of his own castle. He had outrowed his servants and was alone. They killed him and drew him aside out of the highway. Then they came to me with all speed and desired my orders. It was then about sunset. I sent them back to fetch the dead body, which they brought privately into the castle. They tied it neck and heels and put it into a trunk, which they buried under the floor in the closet you mentioned. The sight of the body stung me to the heart. I then felt the pangs of remorse, but it was too late. I took every precaution that Prudence suggested to prevent the discovery. But nothing can be concealed from the eye of heaven. From that fatal hour, I have never known peace, always in fear of something impending to discover my guilt and bring me to shame. At length I am overtaken by justice. I am brought to a severe reckoning here, and I dread to meet one more severe hereafter. Enough, said the priest. You have done a good work, my son. Trust in the Lord. And now this burden is off your mind. The rest will be made easy to you. Lord Lovell took a minute's repose and then went on. I hope by the hint you gave, Sir Philip, the poor lady is yet alive. No, sir, she is not. But she died not till after she brought forth a son, whom heaven made its instrument to discover and avenge the death of both his parents. They are well avenged, said he. I have no children to lament for me. All mine have been taken from me in the bloom of youth. Only one daughter lived to be twelve years old. I intended her for a wife to one of my nephews. But within three months I have buried her. He sighed, wept, and was silent. The gentleman present lifted up their hands and eyes to heaven in silence. The will of heaven be obeyed, said the priest. My penitent hath confessed all. What more would you require? That he make atonement, said Sir Philip. That he surrender the title and estate to the right heir and dispose of his own proper fortune to his nearest relations and resign himself to penitence and preparation for a future state. From this time I leave him with you, Father, and will join my prayers with yours for his repentance. So saying he left the room and was followed by the barons and the surgeon, the priest alone remaining with him. As soon as they were out of hearing, Sir Philip questioned the surgeon concerning his patient situation, who answered that at present he saw no sign of immediate danger, but he could not yet pronounce that there was none. If he were mortally wounded, said he, he could not be so well nor speak so long without faintness. And it is my opinion that he will soon recover if nothing happens to retard the cure. Then said Sir Philip, keep this opinion from him, for I would suffer the fear of death to operate on him until he hath performed some necessary acts of justice. Let it only be known to these noblemen upon whose honor I can rely, and I trust they will approve my request to you, Sir. I join in it, said Lord Clifford, from the same motives. I insist upon it, said Lord Graham, and I can answer for my surgeon's discretion. My lords, said the surgeon, you may depend on my fidelity, and after what I have just heard, my conscience is engaged in this noble gentleman's behalf, and I will do everything in my power to second your intentions. I thank you, Sir, said Sir Philip, and you may depend upon my gratitude in return. I presume you will sit up with him tonight if any danger should arise I desire to be called immediately, but otherwise I would suffer him to rest quietly that he may be prepared for the business of the following day. I shall obey your direction, Sir. My necessary attendance will give me a pretense not to leave him, and thus I shall hear all that passes between him and all that visit him. You will oblige me highly, said Sir Philip, and I shall go to rest with confidence in your care. The surgeon returned to the sick men's chamber, Sir Philip and the barons to the company below. They supped in the Great Hall with all the gentlemen that were present at the combat. Sir Philip and his Edmund retired to their repose, being heartily fatigued, and the company stayed to a late hour, commenting upon the action of the day, praising the courage and generosity of the noble knight, and wishing a good event to his undertaking. Most of Lord Lovell's friends went away as soon as they saw him safely lodged, being ashamed of him and of their appearance in his behalf, and the few that stayed were induced by their desire of a further information of the base action he had committed and to justify their own characters and conduct. The next morning Sir Philip entered into consultation with the two barons on the methods he should take to get Edmund received and acknowledged as the heir of the House of Lovell. They were all of the opinion that the criminal should be kept in fear till he had settled his worldly affairs, and they had resolved how to dispose of him. With this determination they entered his room and inquired of the surgeon how he had passed the night. He shook his head and said but little, Lord Lovell desired that he might be removed to his own house. Lord Graham said he could not consent to that as there was evident danger in removing him, and appealed to the surgeon who confirmed his opinion. Lord Graham desired he would make himself easy and that he should have every kind of assistance there. Sir Philip then proposed to send for the Lord Fitzohan, who would see that all possible care was taken of his brother-in-law and would assist him in settling his affairs. Lord Lovell was against it. He was peevish and uneasy, and desired to be left with only his servants to attend him. Sir Philip quitted the room with a significant look, and the two lords endeavored to reconcile him to his situation. He interrupted them. It is easy for men in your situation to advise, but it is difficult for one in mind to practice, wounded in body and mind. It is natural that I should strive to avoid the extremes of shame and punishment. I thank you for your kind offices, and beg that I may be left with my own servants. With them and the surgeon you shall, said Lord Graham, and they both retired. Sir Philip met them below. My lords said he, I am desirous that my Lord Fitzohan should be sent for, and that he may hear his brother's confession, for I suspect that he may hereafter deny what only the fear of death has extorted from him, and with your permission I am determined to send messengers to-day. They both expressed approbation, and Lord Clifford proposed to write to him, saying a letter from an impartial person would have the more weight. I will send one of my principal domestics with your own. This measure being resolved upon, Lord Clifford retired to write, and Sir Philip to prepare his servants for instant departure. Edmund desired leave to write to Father Oswald, and John Wyatt was ordered to be the bearer of his letter. When the Lord Clifford had finished his letter, he read it to Sir Philip and his chosen friends as follows. It was fought in the jurisdiction of the Lord Graham, who with myself was appointed judge of the field. It was fairly one, and Sir Philip is the conqueror. After he had gained the victory, he declared at large the cause of the quarrel, and that he had revenged the death of Arthur, Lord Lovell, his friend, whom the present Lord Lovell had assassinated, that he might enjoy his title and estate. The wounded man confessed the fact, and Sir Philip gave him his life, and only carried off his sword as a trophy of his victory. Both the victor and the vanquished were conveyed to Lord Graham's castle, where the Lord Lovell now lies in great danger. He is desirous to settle his worldly affairs and to make his peace with God and man. Sir Philip Harclay says there is a male heir of the house of Lovell, for whom he claims the title and estate. But he is very desirous that your Lordship should be present at the disposal of your brother's property that of right belongs to him, of which your children are undoubted heirs. He also wants to consult you in many other points of honor and equity. Let me entreat you, upon the receipt of this letter, to set out immediately for Lord Graham's castle, where you will be received with the utmost respect and hospitality. You will hear things that will surprise you as much as they do me, and you will judge of them with that justice and honor that speaks your character, and you will unite with us in wandering at the ways of providence and submitting to its decrees, in punishing the guilty and doing justice to the innocent and oppressed. My best wishes and prayers attend you and your hopeful family. My Lord, I remain your humble servant, Clifford. Ever when present expressed the highest approbation of this letter, Sir Philip gave orders to John Wyatt to be very circumspect in his behavior, to give Edmund's letter privately to Father Oswald, and to make no mention of him or his pretensions to Lovell Castle. Lord Clifford gave his servant the requisite precautions. Lord Graham added a note of imitation and sent it by a servant of his own. As soon as all things were ready, the messengers set out with all speed for the castle of Lovell. They stayed no longer by the way than to take some refreshment, but rode night and day till they arrived there. Lord Fitz Owen was in the parlor with his children. Father Oswald was walking in the avenue before the house, when he saw three messengers whose horses seemed jaded, and the riders fatigued, like men come a long journey. He came up just as the first had delivered his message to the porter. John Wyatt knew him. He dismounted and made signs that he had something to say to him. He retired back a few steps, and John, with great dexterity, slipped a letter into his hand. The Father gave him his blessing and a welcome. Who do you come from? he said aloud. From the Lord's Graham and Clifford to the Lord Fitz Owen, and we bring letters of consequence to the Baron. Oswald followed the messengers into the hall. A servant announced their arrival. Lord Fitz Owen received them in the parlor. Lord Clifford's servant delivered his master's letter. Lord Graham's, his, and they said they would retire and wait his Lordship's answer. The Baron ordered them some refreshment. They retired and he opened his letters. He read them with great agitations. He struck his hand upon his heart. He exclaimed, My fears are all verified, the blow is struck, and it has fallen upon the head guilty. Oswald came in a minute after. You are coming good time, said the Baron. Read that letter that my children may know the contents. He read it with faltering voice and trembling lips. They were all in great surprise. William looked down and kept a studied silence. Sir Robert exclaimed, Is it possible? Can my uncle be guilty of such action? You hear, said the Baron, he has confessed it. But to whom, said Sir Robert? His father replied, Lord Clifford's honor is unquestionable and I cannot doubt what he affirms. Sir Robert leaned his head upon his hand as one lost in thought. At length he seemed to awake. My Lord, I have no doubt that Edmund is at the bottom of this business. Do you remember that Sir Philip Harclay long ago promised him his friendship? Edmund disappears and soon after that this man challenges my uncle. You know what passed here before his departure? He has suggested this affair to Sir Philip and instigated him to this action. This is the return he has made for the favors he has received from our family, to which he owes everything. Softly, my son, said the Baron, let us be cautious of reflecting upon Edmund. There is a greater hand in this business. My conjecture was too true. It was in that fatal apartment that he was made acquainted with the circumstances of Lord Lovell's death. He was, perhaps, enjoined to reveal them to Sir Philip Harclay, the bosom friend of the deceased. The mystery of that apartment is disclosed. The woe to the guilty is accomplished. There is no reflection upon anyone. Heaven affects its purposes in its own time and manner. I and mine are innocent. Let us worship and be silent. What do you propose to do? said Sir Robert. To return with the messengers, answered the Baron, I think it highly proper that I should see your uncle and hear what he has to say. My children are his heirs. In justice to them I ought to be acquainted with everything that concerns the disposal of his fortune. Your lordship is in the right, answered Sir Robert. It concerns us all. I have only to ask your permission to bear you company. With all my heart, said the Baron, I have only to ask of you in return that you will command yourself and not speak your mind hastily. Wait for the proofs before you give judgment and take advice of your reasons before you decide upon anything. If you reflect upon the past you will find reason to distrust yourself. Leave all to me and be assured I will protect your honor and my own. I will obey you in all things, my lord, and will make immediate preparation for our departure, so saying he left the room. As soon as he was gone Mr William broke silence. My lord, said he, if you have no great objection I beg leave also to accompany you both. You shall my son if you desire it. I think I can see your motives and your brother's also. Your coolness will be a good balance to his warmth. You shall go with us. My son Walter shall be his sister's protector in our absence and he shall be master here till we return. I hope, my dear father, that will not be long. I shall not be happy till you come home, said the fair Emma. It shall be no longer, my dearest, then till this untoward affair is settled. The Baron desired to know when the messengers were expected to return. Oswald took this opportunity to retire. He went to his own apartment and read the letter as follows. The heir of Lovell to his dear and reverend friend, Father Oswald. Let my friends at the castle of Lovell know that I live in hopes one day to see them there. If you could by any means return with the messengers, your testimony would add weight to mine. Perhaps you might obtain permission to attend the Baron. I leave it to you to manage this. John Wyatt will inform you of all that has passed here and that hitherto my success has outrun my expectation and, almost, my wishes. I am in the high road to my inheritance and trust that the power who hath conducted me thus far will not leave his work unfinished. Tell my beloved William that I live and hope to embrace him before long. I recommend myself to your holy prayers and blessing and remain your son and servant, Edmund. Oswald then went to the messengers. He drew John Wyatt to a distance from the rest and got the information he wanted. He stayed with him till he was sent for by the Baron, to whom he went directly and prevented his questions by saying, I have been talking with the messengers. I find that they traveled night and day to bring the letters with all speed. They only require one night's rest and will be ready to sit out with you to-morrow. Tis well, said the Baron, we will set out as soon as they are ready. My lord, said Oswald, I have a favour to beg of you. It is that I may attend you. I have seen the progress of this wonderful discovery and I have a great desire to see the conclusion of it. Perhaps my presence may be of service in the course of your business. Perhaps it may, said the Baron, I have no objection if you desire to go. They then separated and went to prepare for their journey. Oswald had a private interview with Joseph whom he informed of all that he knew and his resolution to attend the Baron in his journey to the north. I go, said he, to bear witness in behalf of injured innocents. If it be needful, I shall call upon you. Therefore hold yourself in readiness in case you should be sent for. That I will, said Joseph, and spend my last remains of life and strength to help my young lord to his right and title. But do they not begin to suspect who is the heir of Lovell? Not in the least, said Oswald. They think him concerned in the discovery but have no idea of his being interested in the event. Oh, Father, said Joseph, I shall think every day a week till your return, but I will no longer keep you from your repose. Good night, said Oswald, but I have another visit to pay before I go to rest. He left Joseph and went on tiptoe to Mr. Williams' room and tapped at his door. He came and opened it. What news, Father? Not much. I have orders to tell you that Edmund is well and as much your friend as ever. I guessed, said William, that we should hear something of him. I have still another guess. What is that, my child? That we shall see or hear of him where we are going. It is very likely, said Oswald, and I would have you be prepared for it. I am confident we shall hear nothing to his discredit. I am certain of that, said William, and I shall rejoice to see him. I conclude that he is under the protection of Sir Philip Harkley. He is so, said Oswald. I had my information from Sir Philip Servant, who was one of the messengers, and who was guide to the others in their way hither. After some further conversation, they separated and each went to his repose. End of Part 9 Part 10 of The Old English Baron This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Old English Baron, a gothic story by Clara Reeve. Part 10 The next morning, the whole party set out on their journey. They traveled by easy stages on account of the Baron's health, which began to be impaired, and arrived in health and spirits at the castle of Lord Graham, where they were received with the utmost respect and kindness by the noble master. The Lord Lovell had recovered his health and strength as much as possible in the time, and was impatient to be gone from thence to his own house. He was surprised to hear of the arrival of his brother and nephews, and expressed no pleasure at the thoughts of seeing them. When Sir Philip Harclay came to pay his respects to Baron Fitz Owen, the latter received him with civility but with a coldness that was apparent. Sir Robert left the room, doubting his resolution. Sir Philip advanced and took the Baron by the hand. My Lord, said he, I rejoice to see you here. I cannot be satisfied with the bare civilities of such a man as you. I aspire to your esteem, to your friendship, and I shall not be happy to lie obtain them. I will make you the judge of every part of my conduct, and where you shall condemn me, I will condemn myself. The Baron was softened. His noble heart felt its alliance with its counterpart, but he thought the situation of his brother demanded some reserve towards the man who sought his life. But in spite of himself, it wore off every moment. Lord Clifford related all that had passed, with a due regard to Sir Philip's honor. He remarked how nobly he concealed the cause of his resentment against the Lord level until the day of combat, that he might not pre-possess the judges against him. He enlarged on his humanity to the vanquished, on the desire he expressed to have justice done to his heirs. Finally, he mentioned his great respect for the Lord Fitzohan, and the solicitude he showed to have come to settle the estate of the sick man in favor of his children. Lord Clifford also employed his son to soften Sir Robert, and to explain to him every doubtful part of Sir Philip's behavior. After the travellers had taken some rest, the Lord Graham proposed that they should make a visit to the sick man's chamber. The Lords sent to acquaint him that they were coming to visit him, and they followed the messenger. The Lord Fitzohan went up to the bedside. He embraced his brother with strong emotions of concern. Sir Robert followed him, then Mr. William. Lord Lovell embraced them, but said nothing. His countenance showed his inward agitations. The Lord Fitzohan first broke the silence. I hope, said he, I see my brother better than I expected. Lord Lovell bit his fingers. He pulled the bedclothes. He seemed almost distracted. At length he broke out. I owe no thanks to those who sent for my relations. Sir Philip Harkley, you have used ungenerously the advantage you have gained over me. You spared my life only to take away my reputation. You've exposed me to strangers and, what is worse, to my dearest friends. When I lay in a state of danger, you obliged me to say anything, and now you take advantage of it to ruin me and my friend's infection. But if I recover, you may repent it. Sir Philip then came forward. My Lords, I shall take no notice of what this unhappy man has just now said. I shall appeal to you, as to the honorable witnesses of all that has passed. You see, it was no more than necessary. I appeal to you for the motives of my treatment of him, before, at, and after our meeting. I did not take his life as I might have done. I wished him to repent of his sins, and to make restitution of what he unjustly possesses. I was called out to do an act of justice. I had taken the air of Lovell under my protection. My chief view was to see Justice done to him. What regarded this man was but a secondary motive. This was my end, and I will never, never lose sight of it. Lord Lovell seemed almost choked with passion. To see everyone giving some mark of approbation and respect to Sir Philip, he called out. I demand to know who is this pretended heir, whom he brings out to claim my title and fortune. My noble auditors, said Sir Philip, I shall appeal to your judgment, in regard to the proofs of my wards' birth and family. Every circumstance shall be laid before you, and you shall decide upon them. Here is a young man, supposed to be the son of a peasant, who, by a train of circumstances that could not have happened by human contrivance, discovers not only who were his real parents, but that they came to untimely deaths. He even discovers the different places where their bones are buried, both out of consecrated ground, and appeals to their ashes for the truth of his pretensions. He has also living proofs to offer that will convince the most incredulous. I have deferred entering into particulars till the arrival of Baron Fitz-Owen. I know his noble heart and honourable character, from one that has long been an eyewitness of his goodness. Such is the opinion I have of his justice, that I will accept him as one of the judges in his brother's cause. I and my ward will bring our proofs before him, and the company here present. In the course of them it will appear that he is the best qualified of any to judge of them, because he can ascertain many of the facts we shall have occasion to mention. I will rest our case upon their decision. Lord Graham applauded Sir Philip's appeal, affirming his own impartiality and calling upon Lord Clifford and his son, and also his own nephews who were present. Lord Clifford said, Sir Philip offers fairly, and like himself, there can be no place or persons more impartial than the present, and I presume the Lord level can have no objection. No objection, answered he, what, to be tried like a criminal, to have judges appointed over me, to decide upon my right to my own estate and title, I will not submit to such a jurisdiction. Then, said Sir Philip, you had rather be tried by the laws of the land and have them pronounce sentence upon you. Take your choice, sir. If you refuse the one, you shall be certain of the other. Lord Clifford then said, You will allow Lord level to consider the proposal. He will consult his friends and be determined by their advice. Lord Fitz Owen said, You say well, replied Lord Graham, and pray let us come directly to the point. Sir Philip, you will introduce your award to this company and enter upon your proofs. Sir Philip bowed to the company. He went out and brought in Edmund, encouraging him by the way. He presented him to Baron Fitz Owen, who looked very serious. Edmund Twyford, said he, are you the heir of the House of Level? I am, my Lord, said Edmund, bowing to the ground. The proofs will appear, but I am, at the same time, the most humble and grateful of all your servants, and the servant of your virtues. Sir Robert rose up and was going to leave the room. Son Robert, stay, said the Baron. If there is any fraud, you will be pleased to detect it, and, if all that is affirmed be true, you will not shut your eyes against the light. You are concerned in this business. Hear it in silence, and let reason be arbiter in your cause. He bowed to his father, bit his lip, and retired to the window. William nodded to Edmund and was silent. All the company had their eyes fixed on the young man, who stood in the midst, casting down his eyes with modest respect to the audience, while Sir Philip related all the material circumstances of his life, the wonderful gradation by which he came to the knowledge of his birth, the adventures of the haunted apartment, the discovery of the fatal closet, and the presumptive proofs that Lord Level was buried there. At this point of the narration Lord Fitz Owen interrupted him. Where is this closet you talk of? For I and my sons went over the apartment since Edmund's departure, and found no such place as you describe. My lord, said Edmund, I can account for it. The door is covered with tapestry, the same as the room, and you might easily overlook it, but I have a witness here, said he, and putting his hand to his bosom he drew out the key. If this is not the key of that closet, let me be deemed an imposter, and all I say of falsehood, I will risk my pretensions upon this proof. And for what purpose did you take it away? said the Baron. To prevent any person from going into it, replied Edmund, I have vowed to keep it, till I shall open that closet before witnesses appointed for that purpose. Proceed, sir, said the Baron Fitz Owen. Sir Philip then related the conversation between Edmund and Marjorie Triford, his supposed mother. Lord Fitz Owen seemed in the utmost surprise, he exclaimed, Can this be true? Strange discovery, unfortunate child. Edmund's tears bore witness to his veracity. He was obliged to hide his face. He lifted up his clasped hands to heaven, and was in great emotion during all this part of the relation, while Lord Lovell groaned and seemed in great agitation. Sir Philip then addressed himself to Lord Fitz Owen. My Lord, there was another person present at the conversation between Edmund and his foster mother, who can witness all that passed. Perhaps your Lordship can tell who that was. It was Father Oswald, replied the Baron. I well remember that he went with him at his request, let him be called in. He was sent for and came immediately. The Baron desired him to relate all that passed between Edmund and his mother. Oswald then began. Since I am now properly called upon to testify what I know concerning this young man, I will speak the truth without fear or favor of any one, and I will swear by the rules of my holy order to the truth of what I shall relate. He then gave a particular account of all that passed on that occasion, and mentioned the tokens found on both the infant and his mother. Where are these tokens to be seen? said the Lord Clifford. I have them here, my Lord, said Edmund, and I keep them as my greatest treasures. He then produced them before all the company. There is no appearance of any fraud or collusion, said Lord Graham. If any man thinks he sees any, let him speak. Pray, my Lord, suffer me to speak a word, said Sir Robert. Do you remember that I hinted my suspicions concerning Father Oswald the night our kinsmen lay in the East Department? I do, so the Baron. Well, Sir, it now appears that he did know more than he would tell us. You find he is very deep in all Edmund's secrets, and you may judge what were his motives for undertaking this journey. I observe what you say, answered his father, but let us hear all that Oswald has to say. I will be as impartial as possible. My Lord, returned Oswald, I break you also to recollect what I said on the night your son speaks of concerning secrecy in certain matters. I remember that also, said the Baron. But proceed. My Lord continued Oswald. I knew more than I thought myself at liberty to disclose at that time, but I will now tell you everything. I saw there was something more than common in the accidents that befell this young man, and in his being called out to sleep in the East Department. I earnestly desired him to let me be with him on the second night, to which he consented reluctantly. We heard a great noise in the rooms underneath. We went downstairs together. I saw him open the fatal closet. I heard groans that pierced me to the heart. I kneeled down and prayed for the repose of the spirit departed. I found a seal with the arms of Lovell engraving upon it, which I gave to Edmund, and he now has it in his possession. He enjoined me to keep secret what I had seen and heard, till the time should come to declare it. I conceived that I was called to be a witness of these things. Besides, my curiosity was excited to know the event. I, therefore, desired to be present at the interview between him and his mother, which was affecting beyond expression. I heard what I have now declared as nearly as my memory permits me. I hope no impartial person will blame me for any part of my conduct. But if they should, I do not repent it. If I should forfeit the favor of the rich and great, I shall have acquitted myself to God and my conscience. I have no worldly ends to answer. I plead the cause of the injured orphan, and I think, also, that I second the designs of Providence. You have spoken well, Father, said Lord Clifford. Your testimony is indeed of consequence. It is amazing and convincing, said Lord Graham, and the whole story is so well connected that I can see nothing to make us doubt the truth of it. But let us examine the proofs. Admin gave into their hands the necklace and earrings. He shelled them the locket with the cipher of Lovell and the seal with the arms. He told them the cloak in which he was wrapped was in the custody of his foster mother, who would produce it on demand. He begged that some proper persons might be commissioned to go with him to examine whether or not the bodies of his parents were buried where he affirmed, adding that he put his pretensions into their hands with pleasure, relying entirely upon their honor and justice. During this interesting scene the criminal covered his face and was silent, but he sent forth bitter sighs and groans that denoted the anguish of his heart. At length, Lord Graham, in compassion to him, proposed that they should retire and consider the proofs, adding, Lord Lovell must needs be fatigued. We will resume the subject in his presence when he is disposed to receive us. Sir Philip Harkley approached the bed. Sir, said he, I now leave you in the hands of your relations. They are men of strict honor, and I confide in them to take care of you and of your concerns. They then went out of the room, leaving only the Lord Fitzoen and his sons with the criminal. They discourse to the wonderful story of Edmund's birth and the principal events of his life. After dinner, Sir Philip requested another conference with the Lords and their principal friends. There were present also Father Fitzoen and Lord Graham's confessor, who had taken the Lord Lovell's confession, Edmund and Zadisky. Now, gentlemen, says Sir Philip, I desire to know your opinion of our proofs and your advice upon them. Lord Graham replied, I'm desired to speak for the rest. We think there are strong presumptive proofs that this young man is the true heir of Lovell, but they ought to be confirmed and authenticated. Of the murder of the late Lord there is no doubt the criminal hath confessed it, and the circumstances confirm him. The proofs of his crime are so connected with those of this young man's birth, that one cannot be public without the other. We are desirous to do justice and yet are unwilling, for the Lord Fitzoen's sake, to bring the criminal to public shame and punishment. We wish to find out a medium. We therefore desire Sir Philip to make proposals for his ward and let Lord Fitzoen answer for himself and his brother, and we will be moderators between them. Here everyone expressed approbation and called upon Sir Philip to make his demands. If, said he, I were to demand strict justice, I should not be satisfied with anything less than the life of the criminal. But I am a Christian soldier. The disciple of him who came into the world to save sinners, for his sake, continued he, crossing himself. I forgo my revenge. I spare the guilty. If heaven gives him time for repentance, man should not deny it. It is my ward's particular request that I will not bring shame upon the house of his benefactor, the Lord Fitzoen, for whom he hath a filial affection and profound veneration. My proposals are these. First, that the criminal make restitution of the title and estate, obtained with so much injustice and cruelty, to the lawful heir whom he shall acknowledge such before proper witnesses. Secondly, that he shall surrender his own lawful inheritance and personal estate into the hands of the Lord Fitzoen, entrust for his sons, who are his heirs of blood. Thirdly, that he shall retire to a religious house, where else quit the kingdom in three months' time. And in either case, those who enjoy his fortune shall allow him a decent annuity, that he may not want the comforts of life. By the last I disable him from the means of doing further mischief, and enable him to devote the remainder of his days to penitence. These are my proposals, and I give him four and twenty hours to consider of them. If he refuses to comply with them, I shall be obliged to proceed to severe measures and to a public prosecution. But the goodness of the Lord Fitzoen bids me expect, from his influence with his brother, a compliance with proposals made out of respect to his honorable character. Lord Graham applauded the humanity, prudence, and piety of Sir Philip's proposals. He enforced them with all his influence and eloquence. Lord Clifford seconded him, and the rest give tokens of approbation. Sir Robert Fitzoen then rose up. I beg leave to observe to the company, who are going to dispose so generously of another man's property, that my father purchased the castle and estate of the House of Lovell, who is to repay him for the money for it. Sir Philip then said, I have also a question to ask. Who is to pay the arrears of my ward's estate, which he has unjustly been kept out of these one and twenty years? Let Lord Clifford answer to both points, for he is not interested in either. Lord Clifford smiled. I think, returned he, the first question is answered by the second, and that the party's concern should set one against the other, especially as Lord Fitzoen's children will inherit the fortune, which includes the purchase money. Lord Graham said, This determination is both equitable and generous, and I hope will answer the expectations on all sides. I have another proposal to make to my Lord Fitzoen, said Sir Philip, but I will first wait for the acceptance of those already made. Lord Fitzoen replied, I shall report them to my brother and acquaint the company with his resolution tomorrow. They then separated, and the Baron with his sons returned to the sick man's chamber. There he exhorted his brother, with the piety of a confessor, to repent of his sins and make atonement for them. He may know Sir Philip's proposals, and observe the wonderful discovery of his crime, and the punishment that followed it. Your repentance, continued he, may be accepted, and your crime may yet be pardoned. If you continue refractory, and refuse to make atonement, you will draw down upon you a severe punishment. The criminal would not confess, and yet could not deny the truth and justice of his observation. The Baron spent several hours in his brother's chamber. He sent for a priest who took his confession, and they both set up with him all night, advising, persuading, and exhorting him to do justice, and to comply with the proposals. He was unwilling to give up the world, and yet more so to become the object of public shame, disgrace, and punishment. The next day, Lord Fitzoen summoned the company into his brother's chamber, and there declared, in his name, that he accepted Sir Philip Harclay's proposals, that, if the young man could, as he promised, direct them to the places where his parents were buried, and if his birth should be authenticated by his foster parents, he should be acknowledged as the heir of the House of Lovell. That to be certified of these things, they must commission proper persons to go with him for this purpose, and, in case the truth should be made plain, they should immediately put him in possession of the castle and estate, in the state it was. He desired Lord Graham and Lord Clifford to choose the commissioners, and gave Sir Philip and Edmund a right to add to them, each another person. Lord Graham named the eldest son of Lord Clifford, and the other in return named his nephew. They also chose the priest, Lord Graham's confessor, and the eldest son of Baron Fitzoen, to his great mortification. Sir Philip appointed Mr. William Fitzoen, and Edmund named Father Oswald. They chose out the servants to attend them, who were also to be witnesses of all that should pass. Lord Clifford proposed to Baron Fitzoen that, as soon as the commissioners were set out, the remainder of the company should adjourn to his seat in Cumberland, where the Lord Graham should be invited to accompany them, and to stay till this affair was decided. After some debate this was agreed to, and at the same time the criminal should be kept with them until everything was properly settled. Lord Fitzoen gave his son William the charge to receive and entertain the commissioners of the castle. But before they set out, Sir Philip had a conference with Lord Fitzoen concerning the surrender of the castle, in which he insisted on the furniture and stock of the farm, in consideration of the arrears. Lord Fitzoen slightly mentioned the young man's education and expenses. Sir Philip answered, How on me, said the Baron? Why, he will not be happy unless you honour him with your notice and esteem. But this is not all. I must hope that you will do still more for him. Indeed, said the Baron, he has put my regard for him to severe proof. What further can he expect from me? My dear Lord, be not offended. I have only one more proposal to make to you. If you refuse it, I can allow for you, and I confess it requires a greatness of mind, but not more than you possess, to grant it. Well, Sir, speak your demand. Say, rather, my request, it is this. Cease to look upon Edmund as the enemy of your house. Look upon him as a son, and make him so indeed. I'll say you, Sir Philip, my son. Yes, my Lord, give him your daughter. He is already your son in filial affection, your son William, and he are sworn brothers. What remains but to make him yours. He deserves such a parent, you such a son, and you will, by this means, engraft into your family the name, title and estate of Lovell, which will be entailed on to your posterity forever. The suffer requires much consideration, returned the Baron. Suffer me to suggest some hints to you, said Sir Philip. This match is, I think, very pointed out by providence, which hath conducted the dear boy through so many dangers, and brought him within view of his happiness. Look on him as the precious relic of a noble house, the son of my dearest friend, or look on him as my son in air, and let me, as his father, implore you to consent to his marriage with your daughter. The Baron's heart was touched. He turned away his face. Oh, Sir Philip Harclay, what a friend you are. Why should such a man be our enemy? My Lord, said Sir Philip, we are not, cannot be enemies. Our hearts are already allied, and I am certain we shall one day be dear friends. The Baron suppressed his emotions, but Sir Philip saw into his heart. I must consult my eldest son, returned he. Then, replied Sir Philip, I foresee much difficulty. He is prejudiced against Edmund, and thinks the restitution of his inheritance an injury to your family. Hereafter he will see this alliance in a different light, and will rejoice that such a brother is added to the family. But at present he will set his face against it. However we will not despair. Virtue and resolution will surmount all obstacles. Let me call in young Lovell. He brought Edmund to his house. Let me call in young Lovell. He brought Edmund to the Baron, and acquainted him with the proposal he had been making in his name, my Lord's answers, and the objections he feared on the part of Sir Robert. Edmund kneeled to the Baron. He took his hand and pressed it to his lips. Best of men, of parents, of patrons, said he, I will ever be your son in filial affection, whether I have the honour to be legally so or not. Not one of your children can feel a stronger sense of love and duty. Tell me, Sir the Baron, do you love my daughter? I do, my Lord, with the most ardent affection. I never loved any woman but her, and if I am so unfortunate as to be refused her, I will not marry at all. Oh, my Lord, reject not my honest suit. Your alliance will give me consequence with myself. It will excite me to act worthy of the station to which I am exalted. If you refuse me, I shall seem an abject wretch, gained by those whom my heart claims relation to. Your family are the whole world to me. Give me your lovely daughter, give me also your son, my beloved William, and let me share with them the fortune Providence bestows upon me. But what is tidal or fortune if I am deprived of the society of those I love? Edmund, said the Baron, you have a noble friend, but you have a stronger in my heart, which I think was implanted there by heaven to aid its own purposes. I feel a variety of emotions of different kinds, and I am afraid to trust my own heart with you. But answer me a question. Are you assured of my daughter's consent? Have you solicited her favor? Have you gained her affections? Never, my Lord, I am incapable of so base and action. I have loved her at a humble distance, but in my situation I should have thought at a violation of all the laws of gratitude and hospitality to presume to speak the sentiments of my heart. Then you have acted with unquestionable honor on this, and I must say, on all other occasions. Your approbation, my Lord, is the first wish of my life. It is the seal of my honor and happiness. Sir Philip smiled, my Lord Fitz Owen, I am jealous of Edmund's preferable regard for you. It is just the same now as formerly. Edmund came to Sir Philip. He threw himself into his arms. He wept. He was overpowered with the feelings of his heart. He prayed to Heaven to strengthen his mind and support his inexpressible sensations. I am overwhelmed with obligation, said he. Oh, best of friends, teach me, like you, to make my actions speak for me. Enough, Edmund. I know your heart, and that is my security. My Lord speak to him, and bring him to himself by behaving coldly to him, if you can. The Baron said, I must not trust myself with you. I will only add, gain my son Robert's favor and be assured of mine. I owe some respect to the heir of my family. He is brave, honest and sincere. Your enemies are separated from him. You have William's influence on your behalf. Make one effort and let me know the result. Edmund kissed his hand in transports of joy and gratitude. I will lose not a moment, said he. I fly to obey your commands. End of Part 10 Part 11 of The Old English Baron This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mary Ann Spiegel The Old English Baron A Gothic Story by Clara Reeve Part 11 Edmund went immediately to his friend William and related all that had passed between the Baron, Sir Philip and himself. William promised him his interest in the warmest manner. He shared all that had happened in the castle since his departure, but he guarded his sister's delicacy till it should be resolved to give way to his address. They both consulted young Clifford, who had conceived an affection to Edmund for his amiable qualities and to William for his generous friendship for him. He promised them his assistance as Sir Robert seemed desirous to cultivate his friendship. Accordingly, they both attacked him with a whole artillery of friendship and persuasion. Clifford urged the merits of Edmund and the advantages of his alliance. William enforced his arguments by a retrospect of Edmund's past life and observed that every obstacle thrown in his way had brought his enemies to shame, an increase of honor to himself. I say nothing, continued he, of his noble qualities and affection at heart. Those who have been so many years his companions can want no proofs of it. We know your attachment to him, Sir, said Sir Robert, and in consequence your partiality. Nay, replied William, you are sensible of the truth of my assertions and, I am confident, would have loved him yourself but for the insinuations of his enemies. But if he should make good his assertions, even you must be convinced of his veracity. And you would have my father give him your sister upon this uncertainty? No, Sir, but upon these conditions. But suppose he does not make them good, then I will be of your party and give up his interest. Very well, Sir, my father may do as he pleases but I cannot agree to give my sister to one who has always stood in the way of our family and now turns us out of our own house. I am sorry, brother, you see his pretensions and so wrong the light, but if you think there is any imposter in the case, go with us and be a witness of all that passes. No, not I. If Edmund is to be master of the castle I will never more set my foot in it. This matter, said Mr. Clifford, must be left to time which has brought stranger things to pass. Sir Robert's honour and good sense will enable him to subdue his prejudices and to judge impartially. They took leave and went to make preparations for their journey. Edmund made his report of Sir Robert's inflexibility to his father in the presence of Sir Phillip, who again ventured to urge the Baron on his favourite subject. It becomes me to wait for the further proofs, said he, but if they are as clear as I expect and inexorable to your wishes, say nothing more on this subject till the return of the commissioners. They were profuse in their acknowledgments of his goodness. Edmund took a tender leave of his two paternal friends. When he said, I take possession of my inheritance, I must hope for the company of you both to complete my happiness. Of me, said Sir Phillip, you may be certain, and as far as my influence reaches of the Baron. Soon after the commissioners, with Edmund, set out for Lovecastle, and the following day the Lord Clifford set out for his own house, with Baron Fitz Owen and his son. The nominal Baron was carried with them very much against his will. Sir Phillip Harkley was invited to go with them by Lord Clifford, who declared his presence necessary to bring things to a conclusion. They all joined in acknowledging their obligations to Lord Graham's generous hospitality and besought him to accompany them. They consented on condition they would allow him to go to and fro, as his duty should call him. Lord Clifford received them with the greatest hospitality and presented them to his lady and three daughters, who were in the bloom of youth and beauty. They spent their time very pleasantly, accepting the criminal, who continued gloomy and reserved and declined company. In the meantime the commissioners proceeded on their journey. When they were within a day's distance they arrived several hours before the rest to make preparations for their reception. His sister and brother received them with open arms and inquired eagerly after the event of their journey to the north. He gave them a brief account of everything that had happened to their uncle, adding, but this is not all. Sir Phillip Harkley has brought a young man who he pretends is the son of the late Lord Lovell and claims his estate and title. This person is on his journey hither with several others who are commissioned by certain particulars to confirm his pretensions. If he make goodies claim, my father will surrender the castle and estate into his hands. Sir Phillip and my lord have many points to settle and he has proposed a compromise that you, my sister ought to know because it nearly concerns you. Me, brother William, pray explain yourself. Why, he proposes that in lieu of arrears and other expectations my father shall give his dear Emma in full of all demands. She changed colour. Holy Mary, said she, and does my father agree to this proposal? He is not very adverse to it, but Sir Robert refuses his consent. However, I have given him my interest with you. Have you indeed? What, a stranger? Perhaps an imposter who comes to turn us out of our dwelling? Have patience, my Emma. See this young man without prejudice that you will like him as well as I do. I am surprised at you, William. Dear Emma, I cannot bear to see you uneasy. Think of the man who, of all others, you would with to see in a situation to ask of your father and expect to see your wishes realized. Impossible, said she. Nothing is impossible, my dear. Let us be prudent and all will end happily. You must help me to receive and entertain these commissioners. It is an effect of very solemn scene, but when that is once got over, have your hours, then the past will succeed. We shall first visit the haunted apartment. You, my sister, will keep in your own till I shall send for you. I go now to give orders to the servants. He went and ordered them to be in waiting, and himself and his youngest brother stood in readiness to receive them. The sound of the horn announced the arrival of the commissioners. At the same instant, the doors were closed and the doors were opened. They entered the courtyard and the great folding doors into the hall were opened without any assistance. The moment Edmund entered the hall, every door in the house flew open. The servants all rushed into the hall and fear was written on their countenances. Joseph only was undaunted. These doors, said he, opened of their own accord to receive their master. This is he indeed. Edmund was soon apprised of what had happened. I accept the omen, said he. Gentlemen, let us go forward to the apartment. Let us finish the work of fate. I will lead the way. He went on to the apartment followed by all present. Open the shutters, said he. The daylight shall no longer be excluded here. The deeds of darkness shall now be brought to light. They descended the staircase. Every door was open till they came to the fatal closet. Edmund called to Mr. William. Approach, my friend, and behold the door your family overlooked. They came forward. He drew the key out of his bosom and unlocked the door. He made them observe that the boards were all loose. He then called to the servants and bid them remove everything out of the closet. While they were doing this Edmund shooted them the breastplate all stained with blood. He then called to Joseph. Do you know whose was this suit of armor? It was my lord. The late Lord Lovell. I have seen him wear it. Edmund bade them bring shovels and remove the earth. While they were gone, he desired Oswald to repeat all that passed the night they sat up together in the apartment which he did till the servants returned. They threw out the earth while the bystanders in solemn silence waited the event. After some time in labor they struck against something. They discovered a large trunk which was some difficulty they drew out. It had been quartered round but the cords were rotted to dust. They opened it and found a skeleton which appeared to have been tied neck and heels together and forced into the trunk. Behold, said Edmund, the bones of him to whom I owe my birth. The priest from Lord Graham advanced. This is undoubtedly the body of the Lord Lovell. I heard his kinsmen confess in which he was interred. Let this awful spectacle be a lesson to all present that though wickedness may triumph for a season, a day of retribution will come. Oswald exclaimed, behold the day of retribution of triumph to the innocent, of shame and confusion to the wicked. The young gentleman declared that Edmund had made good his assertions. What then they said remains. I propose, said Lord Graham's priest, that an account be written of this discovery and signed by all the witnesses present, that the attested copy be left in the hands of this gentleman and the original be sent to the barons and Sir Philip Harcley to convince them of the truth of it. Mr. Clifford then desired Edmund to proceed in his own way. The first thing I propose to do, said he, is to have a coffin made for these honored remains. I trust to find the bones of my other parent and to deter them altogether in consecrated ground. My unfortunate pair, you shall at last rest together. Your son shall pay the last duties to your ashes. He stopped to shed tears and none present but paid this tribute to their misfortunes. Edmund recovered his voice and proceeded. My next request is that Father Oswald and this reverend father, with whom ever else the gentleman shall appoint, will send for Andrew and Marjorie Triford and examine them concerning the circumstances of my birth and burial of my unfortunate mother. It shall be done, said Mr. William, but first let me entreat you to come with me and take some refreshment after your journey. For you must be fatigued. After dinner we will proceed in the inquiry. They all followed him into the Great Hall where they were entertained with great hospitality and Mr. William did the honors in his father's name. Edmund's heart was deeply affected and the solemnity of his deportment bore witness to his sincerity. But it was a manly sorrow that did not make him neglect his duty to his friends or himself. He inquired after the health of the Lady Emma. She is well, said William, and as much your friend as ever. Edmund bowed in silence. After dinner the commissioners sent for Andrew and his wife. They examined them separately and found their accounts agreed together and were in substance the same as Oswald and Edmund had before related, separately also. The commissioners observed that there could be no collusion between them and that the proofs were indisputable. They kept the foster parents all night and the next day Andrew directed them to the place where the Lady Lovell was buried between two trees which he had marked for a memorial. They collected the bones and carried them to the castle where Edmund caused a stately coffin to be made for the remains of the unfortunate pair. The two priests obtained leave to look in the coffin buried in the church and found nothing but stones and earth in it. The commissioners then declared they were fully satisfied of the reality of Edmund's pretensions. The two priests were employed in drawing up a circumstantial account of these discoveries in order to make their report to the barons at their return. In the meantime Mr. William took an opportunity to introduce Edmund to his sister. My Emma, said he, the air of Lovell is desirous to pay his respects to you. They were both in apparent confusion and often Emma's increased. I have been long desirous, said he, to pay my respects to the lady whom I most honour, but unavoidable duties have detained me. When these are fully paid it is my wish to devote the remainder of my life to Lady Emma. Are you then the air of Lovell? I am, Madam. And I'm also the man in whose behalf I once presumed to speak. It is very strange indeed. It is so, Madam, to myself, but time that reconciles us to all things will, I hope, render this change in my situation familiar to you. William said, you are both well acquainted with the wishes of my heart, but my advice is that you do not encourage a further intimacy till my Lord's determination be fully known. You may dispose of me as you please, said Edmund, but I cannot help declaring my wishes. Yet I will submit to my Lord's sentence, though he should doom me to despair. From this period the young pair behaved with solemn respect to each other, but with apparent reserve. The young lady sometimes appeared in company, but often her chose to be in her own apartment, where she began to believe and hope for the completion of her wishes. The uncertainty of the baron's determination threw an air of anxiety over Edmund's face. His friend William, by the most tender care and attention, strove to dispel his fears and encourage his hopes. But he waited with impatience for the return of the commissioners and the decision of his fate. While all these things passed at the castle of Lovell, the nominal baron recovered his health and strength at the house of Lord Clifford. In the same proportion he grew more and more shy and reserved, avoided the company of his brother and nephew, and was frequently shut up with his two servants. Sir Robert Fitz Owen made several attempts to gain his confidence but in vain. He was equally shy to him as the rest. Monsieur Zadiski observed his motions with the penetration for which his countrymen have been distinguished in all ages. He communicated his suspicions to Sir Philip and the barons, giving it as his opinion that the criminal was meditating an escape. They asked what he thought was to be done. Zadiski offered to watch him in turn with another person and to lie and wait for him. He also proposed that horses should be kept in readiness and men to mount them without knowledge of the service they were to be employed in. The barons agreed to leave the whole management of this affair to Zadiski. He took his measures so well that he intercepted the three fugitives in the fields adjoining to the house and brought them all back prisoner. They confined them separately while the lords and gentlemen consulted how to dispose of them. Sir Philip applied to Lord Fitz Owen who begged leave to be silent. I have nothing, said he, to offer in favor of this bad man and I cannot propose harsher measures with so near a relation. Zadiski then begged to be heard. You can no longer have any reliance upon the word of a man who has forfeited all pretensions to honor and sincerity. I have long wished to revisit once more a mining of country and to inquire after some very dear friends I left there. I will undertake to convey this man to a very distant part of the world where it will be out of his power to do further mischief and grateful charge unless you should rather choose to bring him to punishment here. Lord Clifford approved of the proposal. Lord Fitz Owen remained silent but showed no marks of disapprobation. Sir Philip objected to parting with his friend. But Zadiski assured him he had particular reasons for returning to the Holy Land of which he should judge hereafter. Sir Philip desired the Lord Fitz Owen to give him his company to the criminal's apartment saying that one more conversation with him and that shall decide his fate. They found him silent and sullen and he refused to answer their questions. Sir Philip then bespoke him. After the proofs you have given of your falsehood and insincerity we can no longer have any reliance upon you nor faith in your fulfilling the conditions of our agreement. I will therefore once more make you a proposal that shall leave you indebted to our clemency. You shall banish yourself from England forever and go in pilgrimage to the Holy Land with such companions as we shall appoint. Or, secondly, you shall enter directly into a monastery and there be shut up for life. Or, thirdly, if you refuse both these offers I will go directly to court, throw myself at the feet of my sovereign, relate the whole story of your wicked life and actions and demand vengeance on your head. The King is too good and pious to let such villainy go unpunished. He will bring you to public shame and be you assured if I begin this prosecution I will pursue it to the utmost. I appeal to your worthy brother for the justice of my proceeding. I reason no more with you. I only declare my resolution. I wait your answer one hour and the next I put in execution whatever you shall oblige me to determine. So saying they retired and left him to reflect and resolve. At the expiration of the hour they sent Zadiski to receive his answer. He insinuated to him the generosity and charity of Sir Philip and the lords and the certainty of their resolutions and begged him to take care of what answer he returned for that his fate depended on it. He kept silent several minutes. Resentment and despair were painted on his visage. At length he spoke. Tell my proud enemies that I prefer banishment to death, infamy or a life of solitude. You have chosen well, said Zadiski. To wise men all countries are alike. It shall be my care to make mine agreeable to you. Are you, then, the person chosen for my companion? I am, sir, and you may judge by that circumstance that those whom you call your enemies are not so in effect. Farewell, sir. I go to prepare for our departure. Zadiski went and made his report and then set immediately about his preparations. He chose two active young men for his attendance and gave them directions to keep a strict eye upon their charge for that they should be accountable if he should escape them. In the meantime Baron Fitzoen had several conferences with his brother. He endeavored to make him sensible of his crimes and of the justice and clemency of his conqueror, but he was moody and reserved to him as to the rest. Sir Philip Harkley obliged him to surrender his worldly estates into the hands of Lord Fitzoen. A writing was drawn up for that purpose and executed in the presence of them all. Lord Fitzoen engaged to allow him an annual sum and to advance money for the expenses of his voyage. He spoke to him in the most affectionate manner, but he refused his embrace. You will have nothing to regret, he said haughtily, for the gain is yours. Sir Philip conjured Zadiski to return to him again, who answered, I will either return or give such reasons for my stay as you shall approve. I will send a messenger to acquaint you with my arrival in Syria as such other particulars as I shall judge interesting to you and yours. In the meantime, remember me in your prayers and preserve for me those sentiments of friendship and esteem that I have always deemed one of the chief honors and blessings of my life. Commend my love and duty to your adopted son. He will more than supply my absence and be the comfort of your old age. Adieu, best and noblest of friends. They took a tender leave of each other, not without tears on both sides. The travelers set out directly for a distant seaport where they heard of a ship bound for the Levant, in which they embarked and proceeded on their voyage. The commissioners arrived at Lord Clifford's a few days after the departure of the adventurers. They gave a minute account of their commission and expressed themselves entirely satisfied of the justice of M. Bin's pretensions. They gave an account in writing of all that had been I witnessed to, and ventured to urge the Baron Fitz Owen on the subject of Edmund's wishes. The Baron was already disposed in his favor. His mind was employed in the future establishment of his family. During their residency at Lord Clifford's, his eldest son, Sir Robert, had cast his eye upon the eldest daughter of that nobleman, and he besought his father to ask her in marriage for him. The Baron was pleased with the alliance and took the first opportunity to mention it to Lord Clifford, who answered him pleasantly, I will give my daughter to your son upon condition that you will give yours to the heir of Lovell. The Baron looked serious. Lord Clifford went on, I like that young man so well that I would accept him for son-in-law if he asked me for my daughter, and if I have any influence with you, I will use it in his behalf. A powerful solicitor indeed, said the Baron, but you know my eldest son's reluctance to it. If he consents, so will I. He shall consent, said Lord Clifford, or he shall have no daughter of mine. Let him subdue his prejudices, and then I will lay aside my scruples. But my Lord, replied the Baron, if I can obtain his free consent, it will be the best for all. I will try once more, and if he will not, I will leave it wholly to your management. When the noble company were all assembled, Sir Philip Harclay revived the subject, and besought the Lord Fitzohan to put an end to the work he had begun by confirming Edmund's happiness. The Baron rose up and thus spoke. The proofs of Edmund's noble birth, the still stronger ones of his excellent endowments and qualities, the solicitations of so many noble friends in his behalf have altogether determined me in his favour, and I hope to do justice to his merit without detriment to my other children. I am resolved to make them all as happy as my power will allow me to do. Lord Clifford has been so gracious to promise his fair daughter to my son Robert upon certain conditions that I will take upon me to ratify, and which will render my son worthy of the happiness that awaits him. My children are the undoubted heirs of my unhappy brother, Lovell. You, my son, shall therefore immediately take possession of your uncle's house and estate, only obliging you to pay to each of your younger brothers the sum of one thousand pounds. On this condition I will secure that estate to you and your heirs forever. I will, by my own act, indeed surrender the castle and estate of Lovell to the right owner and at the same time marry him to my daughter. I will settle a proper allowance upon my two younger sons and dispose of what remains by a will and testament, and then I shall have done all my business in this world and shall have nothing to do but prepare for the next. Oh, my father, said Sir Robert, I cannot bear your generosity. You would give away all to others and reserve nothing for yourself. Not so, my son, said the Baron. I will repair my old castle in Wales and reside there. I will visit my children and be visited by them. I will enjoy their happiness and by that means increase my own. Whether I look backwards or forwards, I shall have nothing to do but rejoice and be thankful to heaven that has given me so many blessings. I shall have the comfortable reflection of having discharged my duties as a citizen, a husband, a father, a friend, and whenever I am summoned away from this world, I shall die content. Sir Robert came forward with tears on his cheeks. He kneeled to his father. Best of parents and of men, he said. You have subdued a heart that has been too refractory to your will. You have this day made me sensible how much I owe to your goodness and forbearance with me. Forgive me all that has passed and from henceforth dispose of me. I will have no will but yours, no ambition but to be worthy of the name of your son. And this day, said the Baron, do I enjoy the true happiness of a father. Rise, my son, and take possession of the first place in my affection without reserve. They embraced with tears on both sides. The company rose and congratulated both father and son. The Baron presented his son to Lord Clifford who embraced him and said, You shall have my daughter for I see that you deserve her. Sir Philip Parkley approached. The Baron gave his son's hand to the night. Love and respect that good man, said he, deserve his friendship and you will obtain it. Nothing but congratulations were heard on all sides. When their joy was, in some degree, reduced to composure, Sir Philip proposed that they should begin to execute the schemes of happiness they had planned. He proposed that my Lord Fitz Owen should go with him to the castle of Lovell and settle the family there. The Baron consented and both together invited such of the company as liked it to accompany them thither. It was agreed that a nephew of Lord Graham's, another of Lord Clifford's, two gentlemen, friends of Sir Philip Parkley, and father Oswald, should be of the party, together with several of Sir Philip's dependence and domestics and the attendants on the rest. Lord Fitz Owen gave orders for their speedy departure. Sir Graham and his friends took leave of them in order to return to his own home. But before he went, he engaged his eldest nephew and heir to the second daughter of the Lord Clifford. Sir Robert offered himself to the eldest, who modestly received his address and made no objection to his proposal. The fathers confirmed their engagement. Lord Fitz Owen promised to return to the celebration of the marriage. In the meantime, he ordered his son to go and take possession of his uncle's house and to settle his household. He invited young Clifford and some other gentlemen to go with him. The company separated with regret and with many promises of friendship on all sides, and the gentlemen of the north were to cultivate the good neighborhood on both sides of the border. Sir Philip Parkley and the Baron Fitz Owen, with their friends and attendants, set forwards for the castle of Lovell. A servant went before at full speed to acquaint the family of their approach. Edmund was in great anxiety of mind. Now the crisis of his fate was near at hand. He inquired of the messenger. Who were of the party? And finding that Sir Philip Parkley was there and that Sir Robert Fitz Owen stayed in the north, his hopes rose above his fears. Mr. William, attended by a servant, rode forward to meet them. He desired Edmund to stay and receive them. Edmund was under some difficulty with regard to his behavior to the lovely Emma. A thousand times his heart rose to his lips. As often he suppressed his emotions. They both sighed frequently. They both said, they both sighed frequently. Said little, thought much and wished for the event. Master Walter was too young to partake in their anxieties, but he wished for the arrival of his father to end them. Mr. William's impatience spurred him on to meet his father. As soon as he saw him, he rode up directly to him. My dear father, you are welcome home, said he. I think not, sir, said the Baron, and looked serious. Why so, my lord? Said William. Because it is no longer mine, but another man's home, answered he. And I must receive my welcome from him. Meaning Edmund? Said William. Whom else can it be? Ah, my lord, he is your creature, your servant. He puts his fate into your hands and will submit to your pleasure in all things. Why comes he not to meet us? Said the Baron. His fears prevent him, said William. But speak the word, and I will fetch him. I will go to the Baron. We will wait on him. William looked confused. Is Edmund so unfortunate, said he, as to have encouraged your displeasure? Sir Philip Harkley advanced and laid his hand on William's saddle. Generous impatience, noble youth, he said. Look round you and see if you can discover in this company one enemy of your friend. Leave to your excellent father the time and manner of explaining himself. You can do justice to his own sentiments. The Baron smiled on Sir Philip. William's continents cleared up. They went forward and soon arrived at the castle of Lovell. End of Part XI Part XII of the Old English Baron This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mary Ann Spiegel. The Old English Baron A Gothic Story by Clara Reeve Part XII Edmund was walking to and fro in the hall when he heard the horn that announced their arrival. His emotions were so great that he could hardly support them. The Baron and Sir Philip entered the hall hand in hand. Edmund threw himself at their feet and embraced their knees but could not utter a word. They raised him between them and strove to encourage him but he threw himself into the arms of Sir Philip Harkley deprived of strength and almost of life. They supported him to a seat where he recovered by degrees but had no power to speak his feelings. He looked up to his benefactors in the most affecting manner. He laid his hand upon his bosom but was still silent. Compose yourself, my dear son, said Sir Philip. You are in the arms of your best friends. Look up to the happiness that awaits you. Enjoy the blessings that heaven sends you. Lift up your heart in gratitude to the Creator and think left of what you owe the creature. You will have time enough to pay us your acknowledgements hereafter. The company came round them. The servants flocked into the hall. Shouts of joy were heard on all sides. The Baron came and took Edmund's hand. Rise, Sir, said he, and do the honors of your house. It is yours from this day. We are your guests and we expect from you our welcome. Edmund kneeled to the Baron. He spoke with a faltering voice. My Lord, I am yours. All that I have is at your devotion. Dispose of me as it pleases you best. The Baron embraced him with the greatest affection. Look round you, said he, and salute your friends. These gentlemen came hither to do you honor. Edmund revived. He embraced and welcomed the gentlemen. Father Oswald received his embrace with peculiar affection and gave him his benediction in a most affecting manner. Edmund exclaimed, Pray for me, Father, that I may bear all these blessings with gratitude and moderation. He then saluted and shook hands with all the servants, not omitting the meanest. He distinguished Joseph by cordial embrace. He called him his dear friend. Now, said he, I can return your friendship and I am proud to acknowledge it. The old man with a faltering voice cried out, Now I have lived long enough. I have seen my master's son acknowledged for the air of love. The hall echoed with his words, Long live the air of love. The Baron took Edmund's hand in his own. Let us retire from this crowd, said he. We have business of a more private nature to transact. He led to the parlor followed by Sir Philip and the other gentlemen. Where are my other children? said he. William retired and presently returned with his brother and sister. They kneeled to their father who raised and embraced them. He then called out, William, Edmund, come and receive my blessing also. They kneeled, and he gave them a solemn benediction. Your friendship deserves our praise, my children. Love each other always, and may heaven pour down its choices blessings upon your heads. They rose and embraced in silent raptures of joy. Edmund presented his friend Sir Philip. I understand you, said he. This gentleman was my first acquaintance of this family. He has a title to the second place I shall tell him at more leisure how much I love and honour him for his own sake as well as yours. He embraced the youth and desired his friendship. Come hither, my Emma, said the Baron. She approached with tears on her cheek, sweetly blushing, like the damask rose wet with the dew of the morning. I must ask you a serious question, my child. Answer me with the same sincerity you would to heaven. Do you see this young man, the heir of Lovell? You have known him long. Consult your own heart and tell me whether you have any objection to receive him for your husband. I have promised to all this company to give you to him but upon condition that you approve him. I think him worthy of you and whether you accept him or not he shall ever be to me a son but heaven forbid that I should compel my child to give her hand Speak freely and decide this point for me and yourself. The fair Emma blushed and was under some confusion. Her virgin modesty prevented her speaking for some moments. Edmund trembled. He leaned upon William's shoulder to support himself. Emma cast her eye upon him. She saw his emotion and hastened to relieve him and thus spoke in a soft voice which gathered strength as she proceeded. My Lord and Father's goodness has always prevented my wishes. I am the happiest of all children in being able to obey his commands without offering violence to my own inclinations. As I am called upon in this public manner it is but justice to this gentleman's merit to declare that were I at liberty to choose a husband from all the world, he only should be my choice who I can say with joy is my father's also. Edmund bowed low. He advanced toward her. The Baron took his daughter's hand and presented it to him. He kneeled upon one knee. He took her hand, kissed it and pressed it to his bosom. The Baron embraced and blessed them. He presented them to Sir Philip Harclay. Receive and acknowledge your children said he. I do receive them as the gift of heaven said the noble knight. They are as much mine as if I had begotten them. All that I have is theirs and shall descend to their children forever. A fresh scene of congratulation ensued and the hearts of all the auditors were too much engaged to be able soon to return to the ease and tranquility of common life. After they had refreshed themselves and recovered from the emotions they had sustained on this interesting occasion, Edmund thus addressed the Baron. On the brink of happiness claim your attention to a melancholy subject. The bones of both my parents lie unburied in this house. Permit me, my honoured lord, to perform my last duties to them and the remainder of my life shall be devoted to you and yours. Certainly, said the Baron, why have you not interred them? My lord, I waited for your arrival that you might be certified of the reality and that no doubts might remain. I have no doubts, said the Baron. Alas, both the crime and punishment of the offender leave no room for them. He sighed. Let us now put an end to this affair and, if possible, forget it forever. If it will not be too painful to you, my lord, I would entreat you with these gentlemen our friends to follow me into the East Department, the scene of my parents' woes and yet the dawning of my better hopes. Grose to attend to him, he committed the lady Emma to the care of her youngest brother, observing that the scene was too solemn for a lady to be present at it. They proceeded to the apartment. He showed the Baron the fatal closet and the place where the bones were found, also the trunk that contained them. He recapitulated all that passed before their arrival. He showed them the coffin where the bones of the unfortunate pair were deposited. He then desired the Baron to give orders and to return it. No, replied he, it belongs to you to order and everyone here is ready to perform it. Edmund then desired Father Oswald to give notice to the friars of the monastery of St. Austen that with their permission the funeral should be solemnized there and the bones interred in the church. He also gave orders that the closet should be floored, the apartment repaired and put in order. He then returned to the other side Preparations being made for the funeral it was performed a few days after. Edmund attended in person as Chief Warner. Sir Philip Parklay as the second. Joseph desired that he might assist a servant to the deceased. They were followed by most people of the village. The story was now become public and everyone blessed Edmund for the piety and devotion with which he performed the last duties to his parents. Edmund appeared in deep mourning. The week after he assisted Edmund for the repose of the deceased. Sir Philip Parklay ordered a monument to be erected to the memory of his friends with the following inscription. Pray for the souls of Arthur, Lord Lovell and Marie his wife who were cut off in the flower of their youth by the treachery and cruelty of their near kinsmen. Edmund, their only son one and twenty years after their death by the direction of heaven made the discovery of the manner of their death and at the same time proved his own birth. He collected their bones together and interred them in this place a warning and proof to late posterity of the justice of providence and the certainty of retribution. The Sunday after the funeral Edmund threw off his mourning and appeared in a dress suitable to his condition. He received the compliments of his friends with ease and cheerfulness and joy his happiness. He asked an audience of his fair mistress and was permitted to declare the passion he had so long stifled in his own bosom. She gave him a favorable hearing and in a short time confessed that she had suffered equally in the suspense that was so grievous to him. They engaged themselves by mutual vows to each other and only waited the baron's pleasure to complete their happiness. Every cloud was vanished from their brows and sweet tranquility took possession of their bosoms. Their friends shared their happiness. William and Edmund renewed their vows of everlasting friendship and promised to be as much together as William's other duties would permit. The baron once more summoned all his company together. He told Edmund all that had passed relating to his brother-in-law, his exile and the pilgrimage of Zadiski. They waited the circumstances of Sir Robert's engagement to Lord Clifford's daughter, his establishment in his uncle's seat and his own obligations to return time enough to be present at the marriage. But before I go, said he, I will give my daughter to the heir of Lovell and then I shall have discharged my duty to him and my promise to Sir Philip Parkley. You have nobly performed both, said Sir Philip, and whenever you depart I shall be your companion. What, said Edmund, am I to be deprived of both my fathers at once? My honoured Lord, you have given away two houses. Where do you intend to reside? No matter, said the baron, I know I shall be welcome to both. My dear Lord, said Edmund, stay here and be still the master. I shall be proud to be under your command and to be your servant as well as your son. No, Edmund, said the baron, that would not now be proper. This is your castle. You are its lord and master and it is incumbent on you to show yourself worthy of the great things Providence has done for you. How shall I, a young man, equip myself of so many duties as will be upon me without the advice and assistance of my two paternal friends? Oh, Sir Philip, will you two leave me? You have stopped, greatly affected. Sir Philip said, tell me truly, Edmund, do you really desire that I should live with you? As truly, Sir, as I desire life and happiness, then, my dear child, I will live and die with you. They embraced with tears of affection and Edmund was all joy and gratitude. My good Lord, said Sir Philip, you have disposed of two houses and have none ready to receive you. Will you accept of mine? It is much at your service and its being in the same country with your eldest son will be an inducement to you to reside there. The Baron caught Sir Philip's hand. Noble Sir, I thank you and I will embrace your kind offer. I will be your tenant for the present. My castle in Wales shall be put to repair in the meantime. If I do not reside there it will be an establishment for the younger sons. But what will you do with your old soldiers and dependents? My Lord, I will never cast them off. There is another house on my estate that has been shut up many years. I will have it repaired and furnished properly for the reception of my old men. I will endow it with a certain sum to be paid annually and will appoint a steward to manage the revenue. I will continue it during the lives of the first inhabitants and I shall leave it to my son here to do as he pleases. Your son, said Edmund, will make it the business of his life to act worthy of such a father. Enough, said Sir Philip. I am satisfied that you will. I purpose to reside myself in that very apartment which my dear friend, your father, inhabited. I will tread in his footsteps and think he sees me acting his part in his son's family. I will be attended by my own servants and whenever you desire it I will give you my company. Your joys and griefs shall be mine. I shall hold your children in my arms and their prattle shall amuse my old age and, as my last earthly wish, your hands shall close my eyes. Long, very long, said Edmund, with eyes and hands lifted up, may it be ere I perform so sad a duty. Long and happy may you live together, said Edmund, long and happy may you live together, said the Baron. I hope to see you sometimes and to claim a share in your blessings. But let us give no more tears to sorrow. The rest shall be those of joy and transport. The first step we take shall be to marry our Edmund. I will give orders for the celebration and they shall be the last orders I shall give in this house. Then they separated and went to prepare for the approaching solemnity. Sir Philip and the Baron had a private conference concerning Edmund's assuming the name and title of Lovell. I am resolved, said Sir Philip, to go to the king to acquaint him briefly with Edmund's history. I will request that he may be called up to Parliament by a writ, for there is no need of a new patent, he being the true inheritor. In the meantime, he shall assume the name, arms and title and I will answer anyone that shall dispute his right to them. Sir Philip then declared his resolution to set out with the Baron at his departure and to settle all his other affairs before he returned to take up his residence at the castle. A few days after the marriage was celebrated to the entire satisfaction of all parties, the Baron ordered the doors to be thrown open and the house was free for all comers with every other token of joy and festivity. Edmund appeared full of joy without levity, of mirth without extravagance. He received the congratulations of his friends with ease, freedom and vivacity. He sent for his foster father and mother, who began to think themselves neglected, as he had been so deeply engaged in affairs of more consequence that he had not been particularly attentive to them. He made them come into the great hall and presented them to his lady. These, said he, were the people to whom I am under God indebted for my present happiness. They were my first benefactors. I was obliged to them for food and sustenance in my childhood and this good woman nourished my infancy at her own breast. The lady received them graciously and saluted Marjorie. Andrew kneeled down and, with great humility, begged Edmund's pardon for his treatment of him in his childhood. I heartily forgive you, said he, and I will excuse you to yourself. It was natural for you to look upon me as an intruder that was eating your children's bread. You saved my life and afterwards you sustained it by your food and raiment. I ought to have maintained myself and to have contributed to your maintenance but besides this your treatment of me was the first of my preferment. It recommended me to the notice that everything that happened to me since has been a step to my present state of honor and happiness. Never man had so many benefactors as myself. But both they and myself have been only instruments in the hand of Providence to bring about its own purposes. Let us praise God for all. I shared your poverty and you will share my riches. I will give you the cottage where you dwell and the ground about it. I will pay you the annual sum of ten pounds for the lives of you both. I will put out your children to manual trades and assist you to provide for them in their own station and you are to look upon this as paying a debt and not bestowing a gift. I owe you more than I can ever pay and if there be anything further in my power that will contribute to your happiness you can ask nothing in reason that I will deny you. I cannot bear it said he oh what a brute I was to abuse such a child as this I shall never forgive myself. You must indeed my friend for I forgive and thank you. Andrew retired back but Marjorie came forward. She looked earnestly on Edmund. She then threw her arms about his neck and wept aloud. My precious child, my lovely babe thank God that I live to see this day. I will rejoice in your good fortune and your bounty to us but I must ask one more favor yet that I may sometimes come hither and behold that gracious continence and thank God that I was honored so far as to give thee food from my own breast and to bring thee up to be a blessing to me and to all that know thee. Edmund was affected. He returned her embrace. He bade her come to the castle often as she pleased and she should always be received as his mother. The bride saluted her and told her the oftener she came the more welcome she should be. Marjorie and her husband retired full of blessings and prayers for their happiness. She gave vent to her joy by relating to the servants and neighbors every circumstance of Edmund's birth, infancy and childhood. Edmund's prayer waved it to heaven for his happiness. Joseph took up the story where she left it. He told the rising dawn of youth and virtue darting its ray through the clouds of obscurity and how every stroke of envy and malignity brushed away some part of the darkness that veiled its luster. He told the story of the haunted apartment and all the consequences of it, how he and Oswald conveyed the youth away from the castle no more to return till he came as master of it. He closed the tale with praise to heaven for the happy discovery that gave such an air to the house of love to his dependence such a lord and master to mankind a friend and benefactor. There was truly a house of joy not that false kind in the midst of which there is heaviness but that of rational creatures grateful to the supreme benefactor raising their minds by a due enjoyment of earthly blessings to a preparation for a more perfect state hereafter. A few days after the wedding the Lord Fitzoen began to prepare for his journey to the north. He gave Edmund the plate, linen and furniture of the castle, the farming stock and utensils. He would have added a sum of money that Sir Philip stopped his hand. We do not forget, said he, that you have other children we will not suffer you to injure them. Give us your blessing and paternal affection and we have nothing more to ask. I told you, my lord, that you and I should one day be sincere friends. We must be so, answered the Baron. It is impossible to be long your enemy. We are brothers and shall be to our lives end. They regulated the young man's household. The Baron gave leave to the servants to choose their master. The elder ones followed him, except Joseph, who desired to live with Edmund as the chief happiness of his life. Most of the younger ones chose the servants of the youthful pair. There was a tender and affectionate parting on all sides. Edmund besought his beloved William not to leave him. The Baron said he must insist on his being at his brother's wedding as a due attention to him, but after that he should return some time. The Baron and Sir Philip Harclay, with their train, set forward. Sir Philip went to London and obtained all he desired for his Edmund. From thence he went into Yorkshire and settled his affairs there, removing his pensioners to his other house, and putting Lord Fitz Owen in possession of his own. They had a generous contention about the terms, but Sir Philip insisted on the Barons accepting the use of everything there. He felt it in trust for a future grandchild, said he, whom I hoped to live to endow with it. During Sir Philip's absence the young Lord Lovell caused the haunted apartment to be repaired and furnished for the reception of his father by adoption. He placed his friend Joseph over all his men servants and ordered him to forbear his attendants, but the old man would always stand at the sideboard and feast his eyes with the countenance of his own master's son surrounded with honour and happiness. John Wyatt waited upon the person of his Lord and enjoyed his favour without abatement. Mr. William Fitz Owen accompanied Sir Philip Harkley from the North Country when he returned to take up his residence at the Castle of Lovell. Edmund, in the arms of love and friendship enjoyed with true relish the blessings that surrounded him with a heart overflowing with benevolence to his fellow creatures and gratitude to his creator. His lady and himself were examples of conjugal affection and happiness. Within a year from his marriage she brought him a son and heir whose birth renewed the joy and congratulations of all his friends. The Baron Fitz Owen came to the baptism and partook of his children's blessings. The child was called Arthur after the name of his grandfather. The year following was born a second son who was called Philip Harkley upon him the noble knight of that name settled his estate in Yorkshire and by the king's permission he took the name and arms of that family. The third son was called William. He inherited the fortune of his uncle of that name who adopted him and he made the Castle of Lovell his residence and died a bachelor. The fourth son was called Edmund the fifth Owen and there was also a daughter called Emma. When time had worn out the prejudices of Sir Robert Fitz Owen the good old Baron of that name proposed a marriage between his eldest son and heir and the daughter of Edmund Lord Lovell which was happily concluded. The nuptials were honoured with the presence of both families and the old Baron was so elevated with this happy union of his descendants that he cried out now I am ready to die I have lived long enough this is the band of love and to each other he did not long survive this happy event he died full of years and honours and his name was never mentioned but with the deepest marks of gratitude love and veneration sweet is the remembrance of the virtuous and happy are the descendants of such a father they will think on him and emulate his virtues they will remember him and be ashamed to denigrate from their ancestor. Many years after Sir Philip Harkley was at the castle he received tidings from his friend Zadisky by one of the two servants who attended him to the Holy Land from him he learned that his friend had discovered by private advices that he had a son living in Palestine which was the chief motive of his leaving England that he had met with various adventures in pursuit of him that at length he found him converted him to the Christian religion and then persuaded him to retire by the side of Mount Labanus where he intended to end his days that Walter commonly called Lord Lovell had entered into the service of the Greek Emperor John Paleologus not bearing to undergo a life of solitude and retirement that he made up the story of his being compelled to leave his native country by his relations for having accidentally killed one of them and that he was treated with great cruelty and injustice that he had accepted a post in the Emperor's army and was soon after married to the daughter of one of the chief officers of it Zadisky foresaw and lamented the downfall of that empire and withdrew from the storm he saw approaching finally he bade the messenger tell Sir Philip Parclay and his adopted son that he should not cease to pray for them and desire their prayers in return Sir Philip desired Lord Lovell to entertain this messenger in his service that good night lived to extreme old age in honor and happiness and died in the arms of his beloved Edmund who also performed the last duties to his faithful Joseph Father Oswald lived many years in the family as chaplain he retired from thence at length and died in his own monastery Edmund, Lord Lovell lived to an old age in peace, honor and happiness he died in the arms of his children Sir Philip Parclay caused the papers related to his son's history to be collected together the first part of it was written under his own eye in Yorkshire the subsequent parts by Father Oswald at the castle of Lovell all of these went together furnish a striking lesson to posterity of the overruling hand of providence and the certainty of retribution End of Part 12 End of the Old English Baron by Clara Reeve