A Secret Inheritance. Volume 3 of 3. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

healthy tone; his habits became more regular; he paid attention to religious duties; and when the wedding-day arrived it was a day of rejoicing in the whole village. He and Lauretta departed on their honeymoon tour amidst general demonstrations of love and esteem. The sun was shining on their present and their future, and it may be truly said that never did bride and bridegroom go forth under more joyful auspices. For weal or woe the lives of Lauretta and Gabriel were henceforth one.

      They were absent from Nerac for between two and three months, travelling through delightful scenes and climes, and their letters home betokened that they were perfectly happy.

      "For the first time," wrote Gabriel Carew, "I recognise the sweetness and beauty of life. I have hitherto been wandering in darkness. Association with Lauretta has opened windows of light in my soul; heaven is nearer to me. How can I sufficiently thank you for the precious gift of a nature so pure?"

      Their honeymoon over, they journeyed homewards to Nerac. Carew had given all necessary instructions with respect to his house, and it was ready for occupation upon their return. Martin Hartog had left the village, and was never again seen in it. No one knew whither he had gone; he left no sign behind, and, having few friends, was but little missed, and was soon forgotten. Other changes had also occurred, of infinitely more importance to Gabriel Carew and his wife. The first which arrested their attention and brought fear to their hearts was the health of Lauretta's mother, and Carew observed in Doctor Louis's grave and anxious face that the fear which smote himself and Lauretta had found a lodgment in the doctor's soul. She had grown thin and wan during their absence; her limbs were oppressed with langour, her eyes were dim, there was a wistful trembling of her lips. This was not immediately observable, so profound was her joy in embracing once more her beloved child, but Gabriel Carew was struck by it within a few minutes of their being together. He did not, however, speak of it of his own accord to Doctor Louis. So deep was the love between those faithful souls, that Carew was fearful of referring to what might prove to be not only a separation, but a destruction of happiness. Doctor Louis was the first to mention it. He and Carew were sitting apart from the mother and the daughter, who, embracing, were at the other end of the room.

      "You have had a happy time, Gabriel?"

      "Very, very happy."

      "Our dear Lauretta is the same as ever."

      "Yes. I would wish that she should never change."

      "But changes come," said Doctor Louis with a sigh.

      "Yes, unhappily."

      "I am not so sure," said the doctor, with a trembling lip. "Yet when they do come, sooner than we expected in one we love, they are hard to bear. Faith in God alone sustains us in such a trial. To live a good life, a life without reproach, upon which lies no shame, a life in which we have endeavoured to fulfil our human duties-surely that must count!"

      "Otherwise," said Carew, "the sinner would rank with the just."

      "The sinner is the more to be pitied," said Doctor Louis; and then, after a pause, "Gabriel, you have been away from us for nearly three months, and are more likely to detect changes in persons and things than those who are hourly familiar with them. Do you observe anything?"

      "In what-in whom?" asked Carew, in a hesitating tone.

      "In the dear mother," said Doctor Louis. "Is she thinner, paler, than when you saw her last?"

      "Yes," replied Carew, deeming frankness the best course; "she looks as if she had passed through a sickness."

      "She has not been really ill-that is, she has attended regularly to her duties and has not complained. But she is drooping; I am filled with fears for her."

      "She looks better within these few minutes," said Carew. "Her eyes are brighter, her cheeks have more colour in them."

      "She has her dear Lauretta by her side," said Doctor Louis, his eyes fixed upon her beloved face. "It is the delight of the reunion that has excited her."

      "It may be," said Carew, "that Lauretta's absence has affected her. They have never been separated before. How often has Lauretta said during her travels, 'There is only one thing wanting-the presence of my dear mother and father!' Now that they are together again, the dear mother will grow stronger."

      It was not so, however; the good woman drooped daily, and daily grew weaker. The remembrance of that brief time at the end of which Lauretta'a mother passed from earth to heaven, never faded from the minds of those nearest and dearest to her. Her illness lasted for not longer than two weeks after Lauretta's return.

      "She was only waiting for her child," sighed Doctor Louis.

      It needed all his strength of mind and all the resources of his wise nature to enable him to bear up against the impending blow; and these would not have availed but for the sweet and tender words whispered by his wife as he sat by her bedside, holding her hand in his. Lauretta did not leave her mother. The young girl-wife suffered deeply. Even the love of her husband, it seemed, could not compensate for the loss of the dear one, whose unselfish course through life had been strewn with flowers, planted and tended by her own hands to gladden the hearts of those around her. The whole village mourned. Grateful men and women clustered outside the gates of Doctor Louis's house from morn till night, anxiously inquiring how the invalid was progressing, and whether there was any hope. Simple offerings of love were hourly left at the house, and were received with gratitude. Her eyes brightened when she was told of this.

      "The dear people!" she murmured. "God guard them and keep them free from temptation and sin!"

      These words were uttered in the presence of her husband and Gabriel Carew, and they learned from them how her heart had been racked by the terrible events which had occurred lately in Nerac, staining the once innocent village with blood and crime.

      "She loved Eric and Emilius," said Doctor Louis to Carew, "as though they were her own sons. To this moment she has a firm belief in Emilius's innocence."

      "Her nature," was Gabriel Carew's comment, "is too gentle for justice. Fitly is she called 'The Angel Mother.'"

      It was a title by which she had been occasionally spoken of in the village, and now that she was lying on her death-bed it was generally applied to her.

      "For the Angel Mother," said the villagers, as they left their humble offerings at her door.

      In his goings in and out of the house the good priest, Father Daniel, was besieged by eager sympathisers, asking him to convey loving messages from this one and that one to the Angel Mother, and-the wish being father to the thought-inquiring whether she was not, after all, a little better than she was yesterday, and whether there was hope that she might still be spared to them. He took advantage of the sad occasion to impress moral lessons upon his flock, bidding them purify their hearts and live good lives. It was remarked by a few that a feeling of restraint had grown up between Father Daniel and Gabriel Carew since the latter's return from his honeymoon tour. Indeed, on Father Daniel's part, this new feeling must have been generated before Carew's return, and it very quickly impressed itself upon Carew. He was not slow in paying coldness for coldness; his nature was not of that conciliatory order to beg for explanations of altered conduct. Proud, self-contained, and to some extent imperious and exacting in his dealings with men, Carew met Father Daniel in the spirit in which he was received. No words passed between them; it was simply that the priest evinced a disposition to hold aloof from Gabriel Carew, and that, the moment this was clear to Carew, he also fell back, and did not attempt to bridge the chasm which separated these two men who had once been friends.

      So the days wore on till the end came. With each member of her family the Angel Mother held converse within a few hours of her death.

      "Be good to my dear child," she said to Carew.

      There was no one else but these two in the chamber, and it was at her request that they were alone.

      "My heart, my life, are devoted to her," said Carew. "So may I be dealt by as I deal by her!"

      "She loves you as women do not always love," said the mother. "You have by your side one who will sweeten and purify your days. No thought but what is tender and sweet has ever crossed her mind. She is the emblem of innocence. In giving her to you I believed I was doing what was right.