CHAPTER VII.
Next day when I showed my uncle the two sealed packets which I hadrescued, and told him all that had happened, at first he was overcomewith terror and amazement. His illness seemed to have banished all hissatirical humour, and that disdainful apathy which is the negative formof philosophy. He took the parcels with a trembling hand, and began toexamine the seals.
"All safe," he said at last, "all safe, to my surprise. Dear child, Iowe you more than life this time. You have defeated my worst enemy. Toyour care only will I commit these papers, one of which, I hope willsoon be of little value. It is my will; and by it your father's estatesare restored to you, while the money which I have saved by my own careand frugality is divided into two portions, one for you, and the other,upon certain events, for that worthless Mrs. Daldy. This must bealtered at once. When you have heard my story, you may read the will,if you like. Indeed I wish you to do so, because it will prove that inspite of all our estrangement, I have meant all along to act justlytowards you. But that you may understand things properly, I will tellyou my strange history. Only one thing you must promise before Ibegin."
"What is it, uncle dear?"
"That you will forgive me for my one great error. Although it was thecause of your dear father's death."
I could not answer, for a minute. Then I took his hand and kissed it,as he turned his face away.
"My darling, I am not quite strong enough now after all you have beentelling me. Although I had dark suspicions yesterday that some plot wasin action; for I had observed that things in the study were not as I hadleft them; and I had other reasons too. But take me, my precious child,to the sunny bank this afternoon, and please God, I will at least beginmy tale."
I begged him in vain to defer it: there was a weight upon his mind, hesaid, which he must unload. So in the early afternoon, I wheeled himgently to the sheltered nook. There, with the breezes way-lost amongnew streets of verdure, tall laburnum dangling chains of gold around us,and Giudice stretching out his paws in sunny yawns of glory, I listenedto my uncle's tale, and was too young to understand the sigh whichintroduced it. How few may tell the story of their lives withoutremembering how they played with life! Alas the die thrown once forall, but left to roll unwatched, and lie uncounted!
Though I cannot tell the story in his impressive way, I will try torepeat it, so far as my memory serves, in his words, and with hisfeelings. Solemnly and sadly fell the history from his lips, for hismind from first to last was burdened with the knowledge that the end wasnigh at hand, that nothing now remained, except to wait with resignationthe impending blow.
Clara Vaughan, Volume 2 (of 3) Page 27