Chapter XXXI: The Supposed Usurper of Langdale Priory

“Never be ashamed of kind feelings,” said Aunt Jane, as we drove off from the door of Castle Hall. “I saw you were quite annoyed because Dr. Johnson perceived that you felt a great interest in your cousin’s fate.”

“He could not have known that he was my cousin till you told him,” I said. “Besides----”

“Besides, in your anxiety you became, as you now think, too lenient to his faults.”

“Yes, I am sure I was.”

“No, I don’t think so. It is always better to err on the lenient side--to make excuses for the faults of others--we are then much more likely to be right than when we are only impressed by the glaringness of their errors.”

I found that Aunt Jane had not quitted the house of mourning without ascertaining that some one was left there to assist the surviving inmates, who had sense and discretion enough to be of use to Count Rossi, and also to his long-lost and now so strangely-discovered _fiancée_, present owner of the property.

The Duke of Dromoland and his energetic young wife had a long interview with Mrs. Lacy, after Dorina was induced to visit her dying cousin; and the result was that they promised to remain at the Hall after all the other visitors had left--for, as the shrewd old housekeeper thoughtfully reminded them, “the Lady Dorina will want some kind friend to be with her ladyship at such a trying time, and I should be sorry indeed the good Count should go away in a hurry, which he might do, seeing he had now no natural right in the place, because of his wife turning out not to be the real mistress of it.”

In fact, Mrs. Lacy’s quick eye saw that the Duke was just the right sort of person, not because he was a Duke, she afterwards declared; adding,

“He looked so kind and respectable-like--so very different from the other visitors who had been staying there ever since the Countess arrived; and the Duchess, too, did look so sensible and feeling-like that I am sure my Lady Dorina would be happier with her than with any other person, except Miss Vivian.”

Aunt Jane had told Mrs. Lacy that I had better not remain at the Hall at present, though she hoped, later, when I should be recovered more from my late illness, that I should come and see Dorina; and, on account of our relationship, that we should be a good deal together. I also found that Aunt Jane had most thoughtfully asked Dr. Johnson to keep us informed of Carlo’s state, as he would daily pass the door of our house on his way home.

A few days afterwards, just as we were expecting Dr. Johnson’s usual visit, a carriage drove up to the house, and, to our great surprise, we saw Mr. Mordaunt standing at the door. We saw through the window that he wore one of his most angry frowns, and I therefore anticipated some bad news. When the door was answered, he hurried into the room, and without going through the form of shaking hands, or inquiring after our health, he launched forth into a story which roused my deepest feelings, and made me more than sympathise with his fury.

It appeared that for some time past a series of abusive articles had appeared in some of the papers, reflecting on the character of my dear father, and Mr. Mordaunt had made many efforts to ascertain who the secret enemy was that could utter such cruel falsehoods. But he was unsuccessful until the day before, when, on calling at the office of one of the newspapers, he caught sight of a letter in Mr. H. Mordaunt’s handwriting.

It lay open on the table, and impelled by a feeling of suddenly suspicious anger, he seized hold of it, and, unperceived by the man who sat behind the desk in the office, put it in his pocket and went home. He found it to be the identical letter which had appeared the day before in the newspaper, and his first impulse was to seek Mr. H. Mordaunt, and confront him with his own letter.

On calling at his cousin’s house, he learnt that Mr. Mordaunt was at the Priory, so he went off by the first train and reached it the same evening. He took a fly from the station, and on driving through the park he met a carriage coming from the house.

It was a dark night, but by the light of the lamps he fancied he saw the pale face of his cousin. He passed so quickly that he could not be sure, but he afterwards regretted that he did not attempt to stop the carriage and ascertain the point; for when he reached the house he was informed that Mr. H. Mordaunt had just received a telegram from his sister in Paris, who was dangerously ill, and wished to see him immediately.

He then asked to see Mr. Vivian, but the butler said his master was at dinner with a large party, and he was certain that he would not like to be disturbed.

“I would have had it out with him--I’d have given him a good piece of my mind if I could but have got a sight of him,” said Mr. Mordaunt, with a violent thump on the table which almost upset the inkstand.

“Have you never yet succeeded in seeing that wonderful man?” inquired Aunt Jane.

“Yes, and you may well call him a wonderful man; and he’s no more like a Vivian than I am, but he is extraordinarily like my hopeful cousin, Mr. Henry. No, Miss Constance,” he added, as I put a chair near him, “I cannot sit down. I’m going on to Castle Hall, for I hear that the Duke of Dromoland is there, and I mean to get his advice in this matter, for he esteemed and loved your father, and he’s got more sense in his head than I have in mine, and he’s cool, too--very cool and quiet.”

“But,” interrupted Aunt Jane, “do you know all that has occurred at Castle Hall, and why the Duke is still remaining there?”

“Yes, I have heard the whole story; and right glad I am that the rightful heir has turned up, and that good-for-nothing--well, never mind, as she’s dead, poor woman, I’ll try to be charitable. See you to-morrow, when I have had a talk with the Duke. Good-bye,” and without even shaking hands with us he ran out, jumped into the fly, and we heard him roaring to the flyman to drive as quickly as possible to Castle Hall.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

LONDON: PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE.