CHAPTER XXV

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A NEW REVELATION.

"Who loves a mistress of such quality, He soon hath found Affection's ground Beyond time, place, and all mortality. To hearts that cannot vary Absence is Presence, Time doth tarry." --ANON.

It was some few days after the arrival of Lady Bryn Afon with her daughter at Glyn Melen, that the chaplain was one morning despatched on an errand which caused Shanno's heart to beat with strong excitement, his mission being to invite Jack the boatman to pay a long-promised visit to his foster-child, and to bring the old man safely to the farm under his own escort, there to learn from Lady Bryn Afon's lips the story of her relationship to his humble family, which had for so many long years sorely puzzled him. The long journey to the riverside cottage beneath the brow of the famed old castle was pleasurable enough to the young chaplain, not only for the beauty of the scenery through which he passed, but because it was his first visit to the early home of her he loved, and no less dear to him than to herself on that account. And with scarcely less eagerness than Primrose herself did he look forward to the meeting with her beloved foster-father, a man whose name he had heard often enough during his visits to Caer Caradoc and the villages along the Gwynnon Vale, as one worthy of all respect and esteem, but whom he had never yet himself chanced to see.

With great impatience did Primrose await their return together, delayed awhile by their passing a night on their way to the mountains at the house of good Master Rhys Prichard of Castell Leon, with whom honest Jack was pleased enough to renew those old disputations so often held at his own cottage by the river between himself, Master Rhys Prichard, and his cousin, Master Rhys of Cwmfelin, upon the relative merits of the Welsh and English tongues. But at length the miles of difficult mountain travelling were safely accomplished, and on the third evening after the chaplain's departure he led the boatman, trembling with joy and excitement, to the arms of his foster-child, who awaited him alone below, while her mother in her chamber above silently sought strength for the strange revelation she was about to make. Presently the boatman was summoned to her presence, and Primrose was left alone.

It was so long ere the interview between her mother and her guardian drew to a close, that the young girl at length ventured to the door, and knocking softly, begged for admission. Receiving no answer, but hearing her mother's sobs within, she opened the door boldly, and stood spellbound on the threshold at the sight of Lady Bryn Afon on her knees upon the floor, her arms clasped about the old man's neck, whose tears fell fast upon her bowed head. Neither stirred at her entrance, until, at the half-terrified cry of "Mother!" which burst from her lips, Lady Bryn Afon turned, and said in a voice choked with sobs: "Shanno--my sweet Primrose! Come hither, my child, and say that you can forgive an erring, sinful woman, even as her own beloved father has from his heart assured her that he has done! Come back, my darling, to the arms of this tender guardian of your youth and helpless infancy, and learn to call him by the loving name of grandfather! Let him, I pray you, hear you welcome him to this new title, which he has so long deserved for the fatherly love and care he has bestowed on you, and let the thought of your sweet dutifulness these many long years past comfort him for the sins your unhappy mother has committed against him! Father, she has been to you a better daughter than I, and I know how truly you have loved her--yet, I beseech you, suffer me to share but a little of the love you shower upon her, and I will be content, and rest assured of your forgiveness!"

"Mother," said Primrose, trembling, "what does it all mean? Are you then my dear guardian's own daughter?--surely not that long-lost daughter whom he believed dead so many long years since, and of whom he has so often spoken to me? This is too wonderful!"

"She is verily that long-lost daughter, sweetheart," said the old boatman, finding voice at last, and drawing Primrose close to him. "She is given back to me from the dead, praised be the name of the Lord; and you, whom I have nursed upon my knee, and worshipped in your infant beauty and maiden loveliness, you are no little strange nursling whatever, but indeed my own very flesh and blood! And my daughter is the Lady of Bryn Afon! Truly the 'ways of the Lord are wonderful, and his works past finding out!'"

"I can scarce yet believe it is not a dream," said Primrose; "but, dear dad, it is too great a joy to know that I am indeed your own grandchild, and that now there is a link between us which, come what may, can never be broken!"

"Can you truly rejoice, my child," said the old man tremblingly; "truly, in all the pride of your new-found honour, to know yourself the grandchild of old Jack the boatman, verily a man of honest, ay, and of ancient lineage, I trow, yet of humble birth and calling, and boasting no honour save that of having ever been accounted the faithful servant of your father's family?"

"I am truly glad, dear grandfather!" she answered bravely, "and proud to know that I am of so much nearer kin than I could have dreamed possible to one whose name is so well known and honoured in all the country-side. But prithee tell me, sweet mother, how this can be true, an it will not too greatly vex you to speak of it?"

"I have but been waiting to first assure myself of my father's forgiveness," said Lady Bryn Afon, "e'er telling you this early part of my history, which I will now in few words relate, having in deep sorrow confessed my sin, and received his most loving and noble pardon. You know, doubtless, my daughter, that many of my young, girlish days were spent at Caer Caradoc, where an old friend of my mother's was housekeeper to the present Sir Ivor Meredith's father, and to whose charge my own dear father oft spared me for a time, that I might enjoy change of air and scene, fearing, in his goodness of heart, lest my life with him in our lonely cottage by the river were at times wearisome for one so young and light-hearted as I. There I met, far more frequently than I e'er confessed, the young heir of Bryn Afon, for he was very friendly with the sons of the late Sir Ivor, more especially with him who now bears the title, and he was wont to spend many hours with them at the castle. And besides this he spent, upon occasion, some days or weeks at Bryn Afon itself, and, unknown to my father, we met often by the riverside in the haunts of our childhood; and so he grew dearer to me, and I to him, than either of us dreamed at the first. I was young and wilful, and ere I knew what I was doing had promised to be his wife. His father was then dead, and there were none to control his wishes, but I knew well that my father would sternly forbid me to dream of one so far above me in station; so in our youthful haste, and love that would brook no denial, we escaped together from Caer Caradoc by means of the secret passage to Bryn Afon Castle, during the absence of Sir Ivor's family, and thence to London, where we were married. So I entered upon my wedded life in disobedience to the best and kindest of fathers, and upon a life of acts of secrecy and deception, which, begun to deceive my father, have needs been ever since continued to deceive my husband and save my child. So do our sins follow us! At the time of our flight through the secret passage I had no thought of being looked upon, when my disappearance became known, as a victim in my curiosity to its dark dangers, and had the full intent ere long to confess to my father what I had done, and comfort him to the best of my power by assuring him what great love my husband and I bore to each other, and what tenderness I received from him; but at the first I had not courage for my confession, and when, later, my troubles came thick upon me, and the knowledge of the curse blighted all my hopes of happiness, I was thankful when by chance I learned that I had long since been given up as dead without doubt by my supposed untimely fall into the bottomless well, on the brink of which my bonnet had unawares fallen, as a witness against me; and I then resolved never to suffer my father to know of my existence, unless the time should ever come, as now, when I could bring him comfort and joy by the knowledge. Now, my sweet Primrose, you know why it was to these faithful arms I committed you in your innocent babyhood, and you now know the worst of your mother's sinful past. Stay here awhile, and cheer the heart of my most dear and long-suffering father, while I seek Percival Vere, who, as the first to know you to be the Earl of Bryn Afon's daughter, must not be longer left in darkness as to our whole story."

* * * * * * *

"Then, Percival," said Lady Bryn Afon, at the close of an interview which had lasted more than an hour, "this further unfolding of my tale has no power to change the strong current of your affections? You, in whose veins runs the proud blood of noble families both of Wales and England, feel now no secret shrinking from the thought of taking to your heart a wife whose birth on her mother's side is lowly, and on her father's, shadowed by a curse which is the bitter fruit of past shame and disgrace? Think the matter over seriously, Percival, ere I bid you tell my daughter all that is in your heart, for, were I to think you could e'er repent, when too late, of your marriage, and so bring upon her such sorrow as mine, my heart would break."

"My love for her is such, dear madam," he answered, "that nought in life, nor even death itself, can take aught from its power. She is to all eternity my one and only love, and whether wedded to her or no my heart is hers unalterably. Night after night, in the silent hours of darkness, I have pondered over the subject of our union, knowing I dare not tempt your sweet Primrose to share with me that holy estate, with my full knowledge of the curse and all its consequences, unless my conscience were fully satisfied in the sight of God that the measures you have taken to avert those consequences from her had been blessed by God with entire success. I have too deeply studied the matter in all its bearings to dare snatch greedily for myself a happiness which might bring misery to her and to future beings, and had I not fully satisfied myself, by seeking the counsels of Rhiwallon, so far more skilled than I in all wisdom and learning, that your dealings and his with her from her babyhood could not fail to avert the terrible results never yet averted from her ancestors, I would have torn my heart asunder ere I would again have ventured into her sweet presence, perchance to rouse again in her girlish heart those feelings which during the last fair summer I presumed to think my own ill-concealed affection had caused to stir in her heart towards me!"

"I believe you speak truly, Percival," said Lady Bryn Afon; "but, believe me, you may rest assured on this point, and that I shall ever bless you for the love _you_--(of all men living the one to whom I can with fullest love and confidence entrust her)--have in God's good providence seen fit to shower upon her. That she should one day make so safe and blessed a marriage as hers with you must needs be, has been for years past my one wish for her, and my sole hope of undoing that curse which threatens my husband's unhappy family with entire ruin. Yet last summer, when I noted the growing affection between you, I scarce dared hope that, when you knew all, your love could be strong enough to outlive your knowledge of the truth concerning her, and my heart was torn asunder with conflicting emotions! Then, after we had parted, and I had poured my anxieties, as I ever do, into the sympathising ears of our good physician, and had heard from his own lips that in his opinion my dream of her union with you might with all safety and happiness for you both become a reality, with no fear of ensuing woe--then my fears were laid to rest; and knowing how deeply your mutual affection (perhaps unconsciously on her part) had been stirred, I looked forward with joy and hope to your meeting again with that happy result which, I trow, will scarce be frustrated. Yet, could I think that you will too late repent the confession of your love, I conjure you, Percival, to be silent, and even now to fly from my darling's presence! Heaven forbid that this hand of mine, which has already wrought such ill, should bring either of you, my dearly-loved children, to the misery of an unhappy wedded life!"

"Lay your fears to rest, dear lady," said Percival, "as I, in God's great love and mercy, have with a pure conscience this some while since laid mine. I am indeed doubly blessed in thinking, that not only is the great happiness of which I scarce dare yet dream your fair daughter can account me worthy, now perchance verily within my reach, but that also in making her my wife, an she will bestow on me so great and undeserved a favour, I shall be privileged to see the fulfilment of my most earnest desire--the removal of the curse from the House of Bryn Afon."

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