Brownie's triumph

Brownie was exceedingly anxious that Lady Ruxley should be informed of her happiness and safety, and would have hastened at once to Vallingham Hall to relieve her anxiety; but Adrian insisted that they would be constantly receiving callers, and after sending their cards abroad as he had done, it would not do to run away; besides, he was desirous that she should see more of the great metropolis, and mingle in its gayeties for a while. But he suggested she should write.

So Brownie wrote her ladyship an affectionate letter, telling her of her marriage, and that she would come to see her just as soon as possible, and explain everything. Meanwhile, she requested that she would keep her secret from the Randals and Coolidges until she saw her.

This duty accomplished, she gave herself up heartily to all the pleasures which Adrian planned for her.

One day, upon returning from a stroll in Regent’s Park, they had almost reached Portland Place when their attention was suddenly attracted by a shrill scream, and then by the distressing cries of a child.

Turning quickly in the direction whence the sound proceeded, Adrian saw that a woman, who but a moment before had been standing on the river’s brink, had disappeared from sight, while the child of whom she had had charge was reaching out its hands toward the river, and screaming at the top of its lungs.

The young husband and wife hastened to the spot, and saw that the woman had fallen from the bank, and was lying motionless at the bottom of the stream.

Whether she had fainted, or what had caused the fall, they could not imagine, and Adrian hastened to rescue her, while Brownie, taking the little one from its elegant carriage, tenderly strove to comfort it.

A crowd began to gather around, and Adrian was assisted in bringing his burden to a safe, dry place; but to all his inquiries as to who she was no one could give any information.

She was evidently a nurse in some high family, as her cap and apron denoted, while the child, a little boy of about three years, was clothed with taste and elegance. He kept crying for “Nannie, Nannie,” at first, and his little face wore a grieved, distressed look, as he saw her lying so still upon the ground, but Brownie removed him to a little distance, and soon succeeded in quieting him with her fond, sweet words.

The woman continued insensible, and as they could gain no clew to her identity, Adrian, fearing she had been seriously injured in falling, began to wonder what would be best to do with her.

A policeman now appeared, and advised that she be taken to some hospital, and deeming this the wisest course to pursue, the young man gave directions that she be taken to St. George’s, it being the finest one in the city.

“But what will become of the child?” he asked, in perplexity, as he saw it in Brownie’s arms.

“Take him to the station-house until called for,” some one said, heartlessly.

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Brownie, with an appealing, terrified look at her husband; while the child, frightened at being so curiously regarded, threw his little arms around her neck and hid his face upon her shoulder.

She clasped him to her with a sudden thrill.

“Let us keep him until his parents come to claim him,” she said, in a low tone, to her husband.

“But, dearest, it will never do for you to have the care of him,” he returned, disapprovingly.

“Ah! Adrian, he is such a darling, I should like it. Milly will assist in the care of him, and, in all probability, his parents will claim him by to-morrow.”

“That is true,” he said, hesitatingly.

“I know he will be content with me, and that I shall treat him tenderly. Dear, I cannot let them take him to the station-house,” she pleaded, earnestly.

Adrian himself said that was not to be thought of for a moment, and being strongly attracted toward the beautiful boy, it was finally arranged that it should be as Brownie desired, and they all returned to the Langham, while the unfortunate nurse was borne away to the hospital.

The little fellow was soon as happy as a king, and, although he talked of Nannie, seemed perfectly contented when in Brownie’s presence.

She found, upon questioning him, that he was called Eddie, but she tried in vain to make him repeat his last name. Evidently he had not been taught it.

The next morning Adrian went early to the hospital, hoping the nurse would be able to converse with him and give him information regarding her little charge; but he found her raving in delirium, and the doctors said she had doubtless been seriously injured about the head in falling, and they were fearful that the accident would cost her her life.

Only one thing remained to be done now, and that was to advertise the child in the papers, which Adrian immediately did, and then strove quietly to await the issue.

Since the little one would occupy her for a few days, Brownie persuaded Adrian to run down to Vallingham Hall to relieve Lady Ruxley’s suspense, and consult with her as the best method of securing her jewels, and of releasing Herbert Randal.

It was Saturday that the accident happened, and on Monday he departed for West Malling, where he found Lady Ruxley in her usual health, but feeling very lonely without her companion. She still remained at the Hall, where she said she should stay until the folks returned from Paris, and then they might have their grand doings to themselves and welcome.

She had received Brownie’s note that day before their departure for Paris, but she had carefully guarded her secret, thoroughly believing in her, and inwardly triumphing in her good fortune.

“I knew they were humbugs from the beginning,” she said, wrathfully, when Adrian told her about the jewels; “but,” and she shook her head sadly, “it’s too bad for Charles to be taken in so.”

“I sympathize with your ladyship,” Adrian returned. “But let us hope that he may have his eyes opened before it is too late.”

He then related Brownie’s history from beginning to end, and though the old lady felt some uncomfortable twinges of conscience upon hearing that she was the grandniece of that same Mehetabel Douglas who came to such grief in her own house, yet she rejoiced over the young girl’s triumph and good fortune. She sniffed contemptuously when Adrian spoke of his grandfather’s opposition to his marriage.

“She has just as good blood in her veins as Royal Dunforth himself, and when he gets his eyes open he’ll be ashamed of being so crotchety. Humph!” she went on, with her irrepressible chuckle; “I told Helen she’d get her pay yet; and I knew that girl was treacherous. What a mongrel she is to appropriate the poor, abused thing’s jewels and wear them!—and they were Meta Douglas’s, too! I thought I had seen them before, but I didn’t say a word, for Helen says I am always poking into other folks’ affairs. And they hid the poor child in that wretched cell, did they?”

“Yes; although I do not see how they dared do it,” Adrian replied.

“Sir Charles shall know of this, or my tongue will be palsied before I can tell him!” she muttered, angrily, and then demanded: “Who did you say let her out?”

Adrian really dreaded relating this portion of his story, lest the shock should be too much for the old lady. He had merely mentioned the fact of Brownie’s being released by some one upon the other side of the cell, but now he broke to her as gently as he could the tale of Lady Randal’s sin in concealing her deformed son.

“Has she dared do this cruel thing?” she whispered hoarsely; then added:

“I had given her credit during these later years for regretting and repenting of her former wickedness and intrigues, but it seems she is capable of almost anything He—Herbert, did you say his name is?”

“Yes; that was what he told my wife.”

“Well, he must not remain there another hour—it is too horrible!”

She insisted upon going immediately to the young man, asking Adrian to accompany her.

Lady Ruxley appeared to know the way perfectly; for, passing through Isabel’s room, she unbolted the door of the cell, and groped her way to the opposite side.

As she stepped upon that semi-circular block of stone, she explained the secret to Adrian, and bidding him follow her, she pressed her foot upon the bolt and disappeared. As soon as the shaft arose to its place, he followed immediately, and soon found himself standing by her side, in the room already described.

The young cripple was sleeping upon a couch, and had not heard them enter; but as Lady Ruxley stumped toward him with her cane, he started up, and regarded his strange visitors with amazement.

Lady Ruxley nearly shrieked aloud as she beheld his terrible deformity, but quickly recovering herself, she moved still nearer to him, and exclaimed, in her blunt way:

“Well, Herbert Randal, thank the Lord that you are at last born into the world!”

“Madam, are you—who are you?” he stammered, regarding her with nearly as much curiosity as she did him.

“I am a withered antediluvian, as you perceive, but the heart within me is sound yet, and capable of feeling for others’ woes, if not for others’ faults. I am Lady Ruxley, your mother’s aunt.”

“I have heard of you, and Miss Douglas said you were very kind,” he said, gently, and regarding her bent form with a pitying eye.

“Did she?” said her ladyship, eagerly, while her thin lips broke into a pleased smile. “Miss Douglas was a jewel.”

“Miss Douglas was,” repeated the cripple, catching his breath, and a look of pain crossing his face.

“Yes, was; for she is no longer Miss Douglas, but Mrs. Dredmond, and this is her husband,” returned Lady Ruxley, introducing Adrian.

The two young men clasped hands, but Herbert Randal searched Adrian’s face wistfully and eagerly.

And now there followed many questions and explanations, and a long conference, which resulted in Lady Ruxley deciding that young Randal should return at once with her to the villa, where he should remain until the return of the family from Paris, “when there will be a serious reckoning,” she concluded, with a stern, bitter look.

Herbert demurred at first, but upon being assured by Adrian that it would be best, he at last consented, upon condition that he could induce his tutor to be party to the plan.

The tutor was summoned, and although very much disturbed at this unexpected state of things, he was really glad at heart that for the future his pupil would know the comforts of life. Lady Ruxley assured him that his salary should be continued to him during his own and his sister’s life, for the sake of the kindness which he had shown his charge during the past.

So, as the matter was to be kept as quiet as possible from the servants, it was decided they should wait until evening before they made the change, when it was accomplished without exciting suspicion.

Adrian remained until the next morning, when, bidding them a kind farewell, and feeling much pleased with the result of his journey, he returned to London, taking with him Brownie’s trunks, a cordial invitation from Lady Ruxley to the bride to come and visit her, and also an elegant piece of Irish point lace, that would have made the eyes of half the London belles water with envy, as a bridal present.

Lady Ruxley seemed to forget her own aches and pains in ministering to the comfort of her unfortunate grand-nephew; and she found him a most entertaining companion, for he had improved his time and was well read upon almost every subject.

She was eager for the return of Lady Randal from Paris, and yet she was somewhat anxious as to what the result of this new development would be; while she could not help feeling a little bit of triumph as she thought how astonished and somewhat chagrined her amiable niece would be when she should discover that Mehetabel Douglas would be the Lady of Dunforth after all.

“And Charles, how will he receive his brother, I wonder?” she often thought, with some anxiety. “If he is noble and manly, as I hope he will be, my fortune shall be divided between them; but if he should be unkind or ungenerous, then Herbert shall have every farthing!”

Upon Adrian’s return to London, his young wife met him with the saddest face in the world, and threw herself into his arms with a heart-broken cry.

The beautiful child, whom she had so tenderly taken to her heart in its desolation, and whom she had begun to love very dearly, was alarmingly ill—dying, she feared, from what the physician said—with that dread disease, membraneous croup!

He had been taken very suddenly, almost immediately upon Adrian’s departure, and, despite their tenderest care, had rapidly grown worse, until now he was wholly unconscious, and seemed sinking fast.

Adrian was extremely shocked by this distressing intelligence, and together they returned to Eddie’s bedside.

The doctor was there holding the little pulse and watching the ebbing life. He shook his head very gravely at Adrian’s look of inquiry, and one glance into the little pale, distressed face, told more plainly still that there was no hope.

An hour passed with scarce any change, and still those kind watchers hovered around his bed.

But suddenly there came to them from the drawing-room sounds of confusion and eager questioning.

Adrian passes out to inquire the cause, and Brownie hears a few hurried sentences, then a sharp cry of pain, which is followed by the sudden rush of garments, and a beautiful woman of about thirty rushes frantically to the bedside, and bends, sobbing and moaning, over the dying child.

She is immediately followed by a gentleman a few years older, who with a groan of agony, seizes the little cold hands and passionately presses kiss after kiss upon them.

Brownie comprehends at once that at last the parents have found their missing child.

“It is Sir Edgar Douglas and his wife, who have just returned from a journey into Wales,” Adrian whispers, drawing his wife a little aside, and then continued: “They arrived only this morning, and were rendered nearly frantic at finding the nurse and their boy missing; but almost immediately they saw my advertisement, and hastened hither at once.”

“How dreadful!” murmured Brownie, weeping with the stricken ones.

Then she hastened to minister to the little one, who seemed now to be struggling with the mighty foe; while his mother was too much overcome by her violent grief to be capable of any effort, and the father seemed like one turned to stone.

Brownie closes the beautiful eyes, smooths the bright curling locks back from the marble brow, and clasps the tiny hands upon the still breast, then turns to comfort the bereft mother.

It is a hopeless task, however, for she is borne fainting to another apartment, whither her husband soon follows her, having first, in reply to Adrian’s offer of assistance, requested that he would arrange for the last sad rites.

The mother wept, and would not be comforted; but the father was like a block of marble, until he looked his last upon his darling’s face and they bore him from his sight. Then, with one deep, heartrending groan, he sank lifeless upon the floor, stricken down by a fatal attack of apoplexy.

It was his heir, his only treasure, and death had ruthlessly snatched him from his grasp; he had not thought that his peerless boy could die, so young, so bright, so beautiful, and his own heart-strings were snapped asunder.

Three days later those who had borne his son away, took him also, and laid him by his side, while the widow returned to her home desolate.

The nurse was very ill for several weeks, but at length, contrary to all expectation, she began to recover, and in time returned to her sorrowing mistress.