In Search of a Son

by William Shepard Walsh

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  PAUL OR GEORGE?

  At the end of this long talk every one rose. Monsieur and Madame Dalize,with Monsieur Roger and Albert, walked towards the chateau. PaulSolange, silent and motionless, followed them with his eyes. WhenMonsieur Roger reached the step, he turned and made a friendly gestureto Paul, who responded by a bow. His eyes, in resting on Monsieur Roger,had an affectionate, softened, and respectful look. Miette saw it, andwas struck by it. She approached, passed her arm in Paul's, and said,softly,--

  "You love him very much,--Monsieur Roger?"

  "Yes," answered Paul, with surprise.

  "You love him very, very much?"

  "Yes."

  "And he too loves you very well. I can see that. But do you love him asmuch as if he----?"

  And Miette paused, embarrassed a little, feeling that what she was goingto say was very important; still, being certain that she was right, shecontinued:

  "As much as if he was--your papa?"

  Paul started.

  "Yes; you love him as much and perhaps--perhaps more," she cried, seeingPaul start.

  "Why do you say things like that to me?" murmured Paul, much moved.

  "Because--nothing."

  "Why do you think that I love Monsieur Roger in the manner that you havejust said?"

  "Because----"

  "Because what?"

  "Well, because I look at my papa just as I see you looking at MonsieurRoger."

  Paul tried to hide his embarrassment, and replied,--

  "You are foolish."

  Then he looked up at Miette, who shook her head and smiled, as if tosay that she was not foolish. An idea came to him.

  "Miette," said he, softly, "I am going to ask you something."

  "Ask it."

  "But you will tell it to no one?"

  "To no one."

  "Well, do you know why Monsieur Roger, at the fire at the farm, calledme--called me George?"

  "Why, certainly, I know."

  "You know?" cried Paul.

  "Yes: he called you George because he thought suddenly that his child,his little George, whom he lost in a fire,--in a fire on shipboard----"

  Paul Solange listened, opening his eyes very wide.

  "Ah, that is true. You don't know anything about it. You were not herewhen Monsieur Roger told us this terrible thing."

  "No, I was not here; but you were here, Miette. Well, speak--tell me allabout it."

  Then Miette repeated to Paul Monsieur Roger's story; she told him aboutthe departure of Monsieur Roger, his wife, and their little George forAmerica, their voyage on the ship, then the fire at sea. She told aboutthe grief, the almost insane grief, which Monsieur Roger had felt whenhe saw himself separated from his wife and his son, who had been takenoff in a boat, while he remained upon the steamer. Then she told Paul ofthe despair of Monsieur Roger when he saw that boat disappear andbear down with it to a watery grave those whom he loved.

  "At that moment," continued Miette, "Monsieur Roger told us that hecried out 'George! George!' with a voice so loud, so terrified, thatcertainly his little boy must have heard."

  Miette stopped.

  "Why, what is the matter, Paul?" she cried: "are you sick?"

  For Paul Solange had suddenly become so pale that Miette was scared.

  "Not at all," said he; "not at all; but finish your story."

  "It is finished."

  "How?"

  "Poor Monsieur Roger has never again seen his wife or his littleGeorge--or at least he saw his wife, whose body had been cast up by thewaves, but the body of the little boy remained at the bottom of thesea."

  After a silence, Miette added,--

  "You now understand how it is that the fire at the farm recalled to himat once the fire on the ship, and why, in his grief, in his fright tosee you in so great a danger, he thought of his little boy, and cried'George!' You understand, don't you?"

  Paul remained an instant without answering; then, very gravely, with apale face and wide open eyes, he said,--

  "I understand."

  Paul Solange did not sleep the night which followed the day on which helearned all these things. His brain was full of strange thoughts. He wascalling up shadowy confused recollections. He sought to go back as faras possible to the first years of his childhood, but his memory was atfault. He suddenly found a dark corner where everything disappeared; hecould go no farther; but now that he knew Monsieur Roger's story, he wascertain, absolutely certain that he had answered to the name of Georgein the fire at the farm. It was that name, that name only, which hadsuddenly shaken off his torpor and given him the strength to awake; itwas that name that had saved him. Feverishly searching in his memory, hesaid to himself that this name he had heard formerly pronounced with thesame loud and terrified voice in some crisis, which must have been veryterrible, but which he could not recall; and then, hesitating anxiously,feeling that he was making a fool of himself, he asked himself if it wasduring the fire on shipboard, of which Miette had spoken, that he hadheard this name of George; and little by little, in the silence of thenight, this conviction entered and fixed itself in his mind. Then heturned his thoughts upon the way that Monsieur Roger had treated him.Whence this sudden and great affection which Monsieur Roger had shownhim? Why that sympathy which he knew to be profound and whose cause hecould not explain, as he did not merit it a bit more than his friendAlbert? Why had Monsieur Roger so bravely risked his life to save him?Why had his emotion been so great? Lastly, why this cry of "George?"

  And Paul Solange arrived at this logical conclusion,--

  "If Monsieur Roger loves me so much; if he gave me, at the terriblemoment when I came near dying, the name of his son, it must be because Irecalled to him his son; it must be because I resemble his littleGeorge. And what then?"

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  MY FATHER.

  When Paul at last fell into an uneasy sleep, the sun had been up forsome hours. Monsieur Dalize and his friend Roger went out from thechateau.

  "Has the postman not been here yet?" said Monsieur Dalize to hisservant.

  "No sir; he will not be here for an hour."

  "Very well; we will go to meet him."

  And in fact, in his haste, Monsieur Roger carried his friend off to meetthe postman.

  But days had elapsed since Monsieur Dalize had, according to promise,written to the registrar of births, to ask him to forward a copy of theregister of birth of Paul Solange, and no answer had yet arrived. Thissilence had astonished Monsieur Dalize and given a hope to MonsieurRoger.

  "There must be some reason, don't you see," he said, walking beside hisfriend. "Some important reason why the registrar has not yet answeredyour pressing letter."

  "A reason, an important reason," replied Monsieur Dalize; "theexplanation may be that the registrar is away."

  "No; there is some other reason," answered Monsieur Roger withconviction.

  Half-way to the station they met the letter-carrier, who said,--

  "Monsieur Dalize, there are two letters for you."

  The first letter which Monsieur Dalize opened bore the address of theregistrar of births. He rapidly read the few lines, then turned towardsRoger.

  "You are right," said he; "there is a reason. Read."

  "I pray _you_ read it; I am too much excited," replied Roger.

  Monsieur Dalize read as follows:

  "=Sir=:

  "The researches which I have made in my docket to find the register of birth of Paul Solange must be my excuse for the delay. We have not the register of birth which you ask for, but in its place is a paper so important that I have not the right to part with it; still, I shall be ready to place this paper under your eyes when you come to Paris.

  "Yours respectfully," etc.

  "I go," said Monsieur Dalize, consulting his watch; "I have just time tocatch the train, and I shall return in time for dinner. Go back to thechateau and tell them that an important letter call
s me to Paris."

  Monsieur Roger took the hand of his friend with a joy which he could notconceal, and said,--

  "Thank you."

  "I go to please you," answered Monsieur Dalize, not wishing that hisfriend should have hopes excited, for failure might leave him moreunhappy than ever. "I am going to see this important paper, but I see noreason why it should show that Paul was not the son of Monsieur Solange.So keep calm; you will need all your calmness on my return."

  Before leaving, Monsieur Dalize opened the envelope of the secondletter; as the first lines caught his eyes, an expression of sorrow andsurprise came over his face.

  "That is very strange and very sad," said he.

  "What is it?" asked Roger.

  "It is strange that this letter speaks of Monsieur Solange, the fatherof Paul, and it is sad that it also brings me bad news."

  "Speak," said Roger, quickly.

  "This letter is from my successor in the banking house, and it says thatMonsieur Solange, of Martinique, has suspended payment."

  "Has Monsieur Solange failed?" asked Roger.

  "The letter adds that they are awaiting fuller information from the mailthat should arrive to-day. You see that my presence in Paris is doublynecessary. Come down to the station to meet me in the coupe at fiveo'clock, and come alone."

  The sudden departure of Monsieur Dalize did not very much astonish thepeople at the Chateau, but what did astonish them, and become a subjectof remark for all, was the new expression on the face of Monsieur Roger.He seemed extremely moved, but his features showed hope and joy, whichhad chased away his usual sadness. Madame Dalize inquired what hadhappened, and Monsieur Roger told her the whole story.

  Monsieur Roger hoped, and he was even happier that day than ever to findhimself near Paul, because the latter showed himself more affectionatethan ever. Long before the appointed hour, Monsieur Roger was at thestation, awaiting with impatience the return of Monsieur Dalize. At lastthe train came in sight, and soon Monsieur Dalize got out of the car.

  "Well?" said Roger, with a trembling voice, awaiting the yes or the noon which his happiness or his despair depended. Monsieur Dalize, withoutanswering, led Roger away from the station; then, when they were in thecoupe, which started at a brisk pace, Monsieur Dalize threw his armsaround his friend, with these words:

  "Be happy, it is your son!"

  Roger's eyes filled with tears, great big tears, which he could notrestrain, tears of joy succeeding to the many tears of sorrow which hehad shed. At last he murmured,--

  "You have the proofs?"

  "I have two proofs, one of which comes in a very sad way."

  "What is it?"

  "The confession of Monsieur Solange, who wrote to me on his death-bed."

  "Unhappy man!"

  "Unhappy, yes; but also guilty."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, read first a copy of the paper which took the place of thebirth-register of Paul Solange."

  Through his tears, Monsieur Roger read as follows:

  "This 24th day of December, 1877, before me, Jean-Jacques Solange,French Consul of the Island of Saint-Christopher, in the EnglishAntilles, appeared Jan Carit, captain of the Danish fishing vessel,'Jutland,' and Steffenz and Kield, who declared to him that on the 15thof December, 1877, finding themselves near the Island of Eleuthera, inthe archipelago of the Bahamas, they perceived a raft, from which theytook a child of the masculine sex, who seemed to be between two andthree years old. We have given him the name of Pierre Paul. In witnesswhereof, the above-named parties have hereunto set their hands andseals."

  When he had finished, Roger cried,--

  "There is no doubt,--the date, the place, everything is proof."

  "Which would not be sufficient, if I had not this."

  And Monsieur Dalize gave to his friend Solange's letter. In this letterMonsieur Solange announced his ruin, and his approaching death fromheart-disease; the doctors had given him up, and he begged MonsieurDalize to tell Paul that he was not his son. Monsieur Solange declaredthat he was the French Consul at the Island of Saint Christopher whensome Danish fishermen, from the Island of Saint Thomas, brought him thechild, which they had found in the sea. He and his wife had no children.They determined to adopt the child which had been found. MonsieurSolange confessed that he had been wanting in his duty in not making thenecessary search. He excused himself sadly by saying that he wasconvinced of the death of the parents of the child, and he begged forpardon, as he had wished to bring this child up and make him happy. Infinishing, he said that the linen of the child was marked "G. L. M.,"and that the boy could pronounce the French words "maman" and "papa."

  "I pardon him," said, gravely and solemnly, Monsieur Roger.

  The coupe had entered the park, and the two gentlemen alighted beforethe chateau, where the family awaited them. Monsieur Dalize advancedtowards him who had hitherto been called Paul Solange, and who reallywas George La Morliere.

  "My dear child," said he, "I have news for you,--some very sad news andsome very happy news."

  Anxious, excited, George came forward. Monsieur Dalize continued:

  "You have lost him who was your adopted father,--Monsieur Solange."

  "Monsieur Solange is dead!" cried George, bowing his head, overwhelmedat the news.

  "But," Monsieur Dalize hastened to add, "you have found your realfather."

  At these words George raised his head again; his eyes went straighttowards those of Monsieur Roger. He ran forward and threw himself in thearms which were opened to him, repeating, between his tears,--

  "My father! my father!"

  And Miss Miette, who wept, as all the rest did, at this movingspectacle, said, in the midst of her sobs,--

  "I knew it; I knew it; I knew it was his papa!"