Chapter 21

There was to Elizabeth a fascinating interest in the story related by Lady Cecil. Elizabeth had no wild fairy-like imagination. Her talents, which were remarkable, her serious, thoughtful mind, was warmed by the vital heat emanating from her affections—whatever regarded these, moved her deeply.

Here was a tale full of human interest, of love, error, of filial tenderness, and deep-rooted, uneradicable fidelity. Elizabeth, who knew little of life, except through such experience as she gathered from the emotions of her own heart, and the struggling passions of Falkner, could not regard the story in the same worldly light as Lady Cecil. There was an unfathomable mystery; but, was there guilt as far as regarded Mrs. Neville? Elizabeth could not believe it. She believed, that in a nature as finely formed as hers was described to have been, maternal love, and love for such a child as Gerard, must have risen paramount to every other feeling. Philosophers have said that the most exalted natures are endowed with the strongest and deepest-seated passions. It is by combating and purifying them that the human being rises into excellence; and the combat is assisted by setting the good in opposition to the evil. Perhaps Mrs. Neville had loved—though even that seemed strange—but her devoted affection to her child must have been more powerful than a love which, did it exist, appeared unaccompanied by one sanctifying or extenuating circumstance.

Thus thought Elizabeth. Gerard appeared in a beautiful and heroic light, bent on his holy mission of redeeming his mother’s name from the stigma accumulated on it. Her heart warmed within her at the thought, that such a task assimilated to hers. She was endeavouring to reconcile her benefactor to life, and to remove from his existence the stings of unavailing remorse. She tried to fancy that some secret tie existed between their two distinct tasks; and that a united happy end would spring up for both.

After musing for some time in silence, at length she said, “But you do not tell me whither Mr. Neville is now gone, and what it is that has so newly awakened his hopes.”

“You remind me,” replied Lady Cecil, “of what I had nearly forgotten. It is a provoking and painful circumstance; the artifice of cupidity to dupe enthusiasm. You must know that Gerard, in furtherance of his wild project, has left an intimation among the cottages and villages near Dromore, and in Lancaster itself, that he will give two hundred pounds to any one who shall bring any information that will conduce to the discovery of Mrs. Neville’s fate. This is a large bribe to falsehood, and yet, until now, no one has pretended to have anything to tell. But the other day he received a letter, and the person who wrote it was so earnest, that he sent a duplicate to Sir Boyvill. This letter stated that the writer, Gregory Hoskins, believed himself to be in possession of some facts connected with Mrs. Neville of Dromore, and on the two hundred pounds being properly secured to him by a written bond he would communicate them. This letter was dated Lancaster—thither Gerard is gone.”

“Does it speak of Mrs. Neville as still alive?” asked Elizabeth.

“It says barely the words which I have repeated,” Lady Cecil replied. “Sir Boyvill, knowing his son’s impetuosity, hurried down here, to stop, if he could, his reviving, through such means, the recollection of his unfortunate lady—with what success you have seen; Gerard is gone, nor can any one guess what tale will be trumped up to deceive and rob him.”

Elizabeth could not feel as secure as her friend, that nothing would come of the promised information. This was not strange; besides, the different view taken by a worldly and an experienced person, the tale, with all its mystery, was an old one to Lady Cecil; while, to her friend, it bore the freshness of novelty: to the one, it was a story of the dead and the forgotten; to the other, it was replete with living interest; the enthusiasm of Gerard communicated itself to her, and she felt that his present, journey was full of event, the first step in a discovery of all that hitherto had been inscrutable.

A few days brought a letter from Gerard. Lady Cecil read it, and then gave it to her young friend to peruse. It was dated Lancaster; it said, “My journey has hitherto been fruitless; this man Hoskins has gone from Lancaster, leaving word that I should find him in London, but in so negligent a way as to lower my hopes considerably. His chief aim must be to earn the promised reward, and I feel sure that he would take more pains to obtain it, did he think that it was really within his grasp.