Chapter VII

_A Chapter, which disposes of one of the principal Characters in the History, and concludes the second Book of the third and last Volume._

The next morning early, as soon as John De Lancaster had risen and was dressed, a note from Cornet Roberts signified, that he was waiting, and requested leave to be admitted to him in private for a very few minutes. This was instantly granted, and his visitor introduced the business he was upon by premising, that it concerned a guilty but repentant object, whom he was sensible it did not become him even to name in Mr. De Lancaster’s hearing, unless he had his free permission so to do.

Assure me only, said De Lancaster, that the person you allude to is really penitent, and I shall then think it my duty to hear and attend to any thing, you have to tell me of Sir David Ap Owen, or from Sir David.

That he is truly penitent, replied Roberts, I most seriously believe, and, as one proof of it, I have received from his hands this bond, which with contrition he returns to you by mine.

He considers himself as a dying man, and from what he hinted at respecting his avoidance of a public execution, I cannot but suspect that he has taken means to intercept that punishment. I understand from my kind friend Major Wilson, that you are apprised of my connection and peculiar situation with respect to this unhappy man. I therefore flatter myself you will not be displeased when I inform you, that I have here in my hand a full confession, every word of which was dictated by him, and signed in his own hand-writing with his name, of the dreadful crime, which has made you fatherless, and also of another infamous proceeding of a complicated nature, respecting a much-injured young woman, daughter of his uncle’s bard Ap Rees, and now deceased. Under the dreadful consciousness of these atrocious deeds he is now approaching to his last hour. Condition more calamitous than this, is not in mortal man to suffer or conceive.--In a trunk, of which I have the key, there is a considerable sum of money, raised and amassed by him before and since his leaving England, as a resource I should suppose against events, which he had reason to foresee and dread. Out of this money he has directed me to purchase an annuity for the joint lives of the father and brother of the poor girl, who was the victim of his cruel and flagitious passions. Of his mother he speaks with bitterest abhorrence, accusing her as the incendiary, who inflamed his animosity against you, and spurred him on to the late horrid act to satisfy her malice and revenge. She has thrown herself into the convent of Saint Barbara, and by a letter I am charged with he solemnly adjures her to devote the remnant of her days to repentance and atonement. This sir, is the sum of what I am commissioned to report to you, except the last most anxious wish of his heart, a wish however, which he justly fears you cannot be induced to grant, though he credits you for charity of the sublimest sort; namely, that you would condescend to look upon him in his extreme distress, and suffer him to humble himself before you, though despairing of forgiveness.

Sir, replied De Lancaster, with the lessons and example of our Heavenly Master ever before me, it is not in my heart, wounded although it be, to turn away from this repentant criminal, and not comply with his request, however painful it must be to grant it. Tell him I’ll come to him within this hour; nay, if you rather wish it, I am ready at this very minute to go with you. Perhaps what you conjecture may be true; and, if it be, no time is to be lost.

This said, the generous youth, without a moment’s loss, took his visitor by the arm, and with a ready mind, prepared for every trial, hastened to the melancholy abode, where, upon giving in his name to the officer upon guard, he was admitted to the wretch, who had been his unrelenting enemy through life, and had at length completed the full measure of his malice and atrocity by the murder of his father.

Upon entering the room, John De Lancaster had no sooner come within the centinels, than he stopped, and, addressing himself to the prisoner, said--Sir David Ap Owen, I am come at your desire to convince you that I am incapable of withholding from you any thing on my part, that can facilitate and further your repentance, which I truly hope may be so perfect and sincere, as to atone for your offences, grievous as they have been, and, through the intercession of your Redeemer, recommend you to the mercy and forgiveness of your God.

The prisoner had been reading; he raised his eyes from the book, and fixing them with wild amazement upon the person of the man he had so deeply injured, now beyond all his hopes presenting himself at his call, and addressing him with these solemn and impressive words, when struck on a sudden to the heart (the mortal dose conspiring with his conscience to arrest and stop its pulses) he gave a hideous shriek and fell into a swoon.

There were two centinels within the room; the officer upon guard had entered with De Lancaster, and his relation Mr. Roberts was also present to assist him. By their efforts, and the medical assistance within their call, the prisoner after a time was brought out of his fit; De Lancaster in the mean while never stirring from the spot where he stood.

There was evidently a change and some derangement of features observable in the prisoner after this attack: his mouth was in a degree drawn aside, and he seemed to speak with difficulty: he made himself however understood, and asked if he might be permitted to be in private with the gentleman, who had condescended to visit him--I am struck with death, he said, and if the door was opened to me, I could not walk out of it.--To this the officer made answer, that his orders did not allow him in any case to take off the centinels, and of course his suit could not be granted.--I submit, replied the dying suicide, and now when I am hastening to the presence of that awful Judge, from whom nothing that I have done, nothing that I have meditated, can be hidden or concealed, what avails it who is present to hear and to attest my full and free confession that I am guilty of the heinous crime, for which I justly suffer this imprisonment, so rigidly, but so deservedly, enforced? It was because the early virtue of that excellent youth, whom I have now made fatherless, overshadowed my unworthiness, that my envious spirit rose against him; it was the praise, which he obtained and merited from all who spoke of him, that galled my pride, and fostered that malignity of mind, which hurried me along from step to step to the commission of the direst acts that ever weighed on a departing soul. To all my sins I now have added suicide, and defrauded public justice of its rightful punishment by being my own executioner. I have been long provided with a poisonous and tasteless mixture, which, (with horror I confess it) was destined to be made my instrument of vengeance upon the only woman, that ever touched my savage heart--the innocent and beautiful Maria Devereux; and what was it inspired me, monster as I am, with such a horrid purpose? it was because she honourably withstood my splendid offers, and candidly avowed that her affections were fixed upon an unknown gallant officer, who had saved her life, and by that action won her grateful heart.--Blessed be Heaven, that hath prevented this!--I had more to say, much more, but it is lost; my memory wanders, and I feel the deadly drug within me now in operation--I know, I know that there is joy reserved for that benevolent, that blessed youth, who even now with eyes, that beam divinity, looks on me whilst imploring pardon with my dying breath, and pities even the murderer of his father.

Here his voice failed; the deleterious dose rushed to the seat of life; another spasm seized him; his senses vanished; death was in his visage, horrible to behold; the medical assistants came about him, pronounced him gone; the poison had prevailed. The awful consummation was complete.

END OF BOOK THE SECOND.