Stranica 256 [256]
194
I will not tell you that he was snared
away before I knew his history ‘a
6 Why not?” asked Monks, hastily.
§ Because you know it well.”
1”?
6 Denial to me is vain,” replied Mr.
Brownlow. “I shall show you that I
know more than that.”
“ You — you — can’t prove anything
against me,” stammered Monks. “I defy
you to do it.”
6 We shall see,” returned the old gen¬
tleman, with a searching glance. “TI lost
the boy, and no efforts of mine could re¬
cover him. Your mother being dead, I
knew that you alone could solve the mys¬
tery, if anybody could, and as when I had
estate in the West Indies—whither, as
you well know, you retired upon your
mother’s death, to escape the conse¬
quences of vicious courses here,—I made
the voyage.
fore, and were supposed to be in London,
but no one could tell where. I returned.
Your agents had no clue to your resi¬
dence. You came and went, they said,
as strangely as you had ever done; some¬
times for days together, and sometimes
not for months, keeping, to all appear¬
ance, the same low haunts, and mingling
with the same infamous herd who had
been your associates when a fierce ungo¬
vernable boy. I wearied them with new
applications; I paced the streets by night
and day ; but, until two hours ago, all my
efforts were fruitless, and I never saw
you for an instant.”
** And now you do see me,”’ said Monks,
rising boldly, “what then? Fraud and
robbery are high-sounding words; justi¬
fied, you think, by a fancied resemblance
in some young imp to an idle daubof a
dead man’s. Brother! you don’t even
know that a child was born of this maud¬
lin pair; you don’t even know that.”
6 [ did not,” replied Mr. Brownlow,
rising too; * but within this last fortnight
i have learnt it all. You have a brother;
you know it and him. There was a will,
which your mother destroyed, leaving the
secret and the gain to you at her own
death. It contained a reference to some
child likely to be the result of this sad
connexion, which child was born, and
accidentally encountered by you, when
our suspicions were first awakened by
is resemblance to his father. You re¬
paired to the place of his birth. There
»xisted proofs—proofs long suppressed—
of his birth and parentage. "Those proofs
were destroyed by you, and now, in your
]
own words to your accomplice the Jew,
‘the only proofs of the boy’s identity lie
at the bottom of the river,’ and the old hag
that received them from the mother is
rotting in her coffin. Unworthy son, cow¬
ard, liar— you, who hold your councils
with thieves and murderers in dark rooms
at night—you, whose plots and wiles have
hurled a violent death upon the head of
ene worth millions such as you—you, who
from your cradle were gall and bitterness
to your own father’s heart, and in whom
all evil passions vie, and profligacy fes¬
tered, till they found a vent in a hideous
disease which has made your face an in¬
dex even to your mind— you, Edward
Leeford, do you brave me still!"
s No, no, no,? returned the coward,
overwhelmed by these accumulated
charges.
“ Every word,” cried the old gentle¬
man, § every word that has passed be¬
tween you and this detested villain, is
known to me. Shadows on the wall
have caught your whispers, and brought
them to my ear; the sight of the perse¬
cuted child has turned vice itself, and
given it the courage, and almost the attri¬
butes of virtue. Murder has been done,
to which you were morally, if not really
a party.”
“No, no,” interposed Monks. “I—I
—know nothing of that. I was going to
inquire the truth of the story when you
overtook me. I didn’t know the cause;
I thought it was a common quarrel.”
‘It was the partial disclosure of vour
secrets,” replied Mr. Brownlow. “ Will
you disclose the whole?"
6 Yes, I will.”
‘Set your hand to a statement of truth
and ‘facts, and repeat it before witness¬
es 2
c That I promise, too.”
“Remain quietly here until such a
me to such a place as I may deem most
advisable, for the purpose of attesting
it?
“If you insist upon that, I"11 do that,
also," replied Monks.
c You must do more than that,” said
Mr. Brownlow. “ Make restitution to an
innocent and unoffending child, for such
he is, although the offspring of a guilty
and most miserable love. You have not
forgotten the provisions of the will. Car¬
ry them into execution so far as your
brother is concerned, and then go where
you please, In this world, you need meet
no more."
While Monks was pacing up and down,