The Old English Baron: a Gothic Story

by Clara Reeve

Edmund found him a man ofunderstanding, though not improved by education; he also discovered thatJohn loved his master, and respected him even to veneration; from him helearned many particulars concerning that worthy knight. Wyatt told him,"That Sir Philip maintained twelve old soldiers who had been maimed anddisabled in the wars, and had no provision made for them; also sixold officers, who had been unfortunate, and were grown grey withoutpreferment; he likewise mentioned the Greek gentleman, his master'scaptive and friend, as a man eminent for valour and piety; but, besidethese," said Wyatt, "there are many others who eat of my master's breadand drink of his cup, and who join in blessings and prayers to Heavenfor their noble benefactor; his ears are ever open to distress, his handto relieve it, and he shares in every good man's joys and blessings."

  "Oh, what a glorious character!" said Edmund; "how my heart throbs withwishes to imitate such a man! Oh, that I might resemble him, though atever so great a distance!"

  Edmund was never weary of hearing the actions of this truly great man,nor Wyatt with relating them; and, during three days journey, there werebut few pauses in their conversation.

  The fourth day, when they came within view of the house, Edmund's heartbegan to raise doubts of his reception. "If," said he, "Sir Philipshould not receive me kindly, if he should resent my long neglect, anddisown my acquaintance, it would be no more than justice."

  He sent Wyatt before, to notify his arrival to Sir Philip, whilehe waited at the gate, full of doubts and anxieties concerning hisreception. Wyatt was met and congratulated on his return by most of hisfellow-servants. He asked--

  "Where is my master?"

  "In the parlour."

  "Are any strangers with him?"

  "No, only his own family."

  "Then I will shew myself to him."

  He presented himself before Sir Philip.

  "So, John," said he, "you are welcome home! I hope you left your parentsand relations well?"

  "All well, thank God! and send their humble duty to your honour, andthey pray for you every day of their lives. I hope your honour is ingood health."

  "Very well."

  "Thank God for that! but, sir, I have something further to tell you;I have had a companion all the way home, a person who comes to wait onyour honour, on business of great consequence, as he says."

  "Who is that, John?"

  "It is Master Edmund Twyford, from the castle of Lovel."

  "Young Edmund!" says Sir Philip, surprised; "where is he?"

  "At the gate, sir."

  "Why did you leave him there?"

  "Because he bade me come before, and acquaint your honour, that he waitsyour pleasure."

  "Bring him hither," said Sir Philip; "tell him I shall be glad to seehim."

  John made haste to deliver his message, and Edmund followed him insilence into Sir Philip's presence.

  He bowed low, and kept at a distance. Sir Philip held out his hand,and bad him approach. As he drew near, he was seized with an universaltrembling; he kneeled down, took his hand, kissed it, and pressed it tohis heart in silence.

  "You are welcome, young man!" said Sir Philip; "take courage, and speakfor yourself."

  Edmund sighed deeply; he at length broke silence with difficulty. "I amcome thus far, noble sir, to throw myself at your feet, and implore yourprotection. You are, under God, my only reliance."

  "I receive you," said Sir Philip, "with all my heart! Your person isgreatly improved since I saw you last, and I hope your mind is equallyso; I have heard a great character of you from some that knew you inFrance. I remember the promise I made you long ago, and am ready nowto fulfil it, upon condition that you have done nothing to disgrace thegood opinion I formerly entertained of you; and am ready to serve you inany thing consistent with my own honour."

  Edmund kissed the hand that was extended to raise him. "I accept yourfavour, sir, upon this condition only; and if ever you find me to imposeupon your credulity, or incroach on your goodness, may you renounce mefrom that moment!"

  "Enough," said Sir Philip; "rise, then, and let me embrace you; You aretruly welcome!"

  "Oh, noble sir!" said Edmund, "I have a strange story to tell you; butit must be by ourselves, with only heaven to bear witness to what passesbetween us."

  "Very well," said Sir Philip; "I am ready to hear you; but first, go andget some refreshment after your journey, and then come to me again. JohnWyatt will attend you."

  "I want no refreshment," said Edmund; "and I cannot eat or drink till Ihave told my business to your honour."

  "Well then," said Sir Philip, "come along with me." He took the youth bythe hand, and led him into another parlour, leaving his friends in greatsurprise, what this young man's errand could be; John Wyatt told themall that he knew relating to Edmund's birth, character, and situation.

  When Sir Philip had seated his young friend, he listened in silence tothe surprising tale he had to tell him. Edmund told him briefly the mostremarkable circumstances of his life, from the time when he firstsaw and liked him, till his return from France; but from that era,he related at large every thing that had happened, recounting everyinteresting particular, which was imprinted on his memory in strong andlasting characters. Sir Philip grew every moment more affected by therecital; sometimes he clasped his hands together, he lifted them up toheaven, he smote his breast, he sighed, he exclaimed aloud; when Edmundrelated his dream, he breathed short, and seemed to devour him withattention; when he described the fatal closet, he trembled, sighed,sobbed, and was almost suffocated with his agitation. But when herelated all that passed between his supposed mother and himself, andfinally produced the jewels, the proofs of his birth, and the death ofhis unfortunate mother, he flew to him, he pressed him to his bosom, hestrove to speak, but speech was for some minutes denied. He wept aloud;and, at length, his words found their way in broken exclamations.

  "Son of my dearest friend! Dear and precious relic of a noble house!child of Providence! the beloved of heaven! welcome! thrice welcome tomy arms! to my heart! I will be thy parent from henceforward, and thoushalt be indeed my child, my heir! My mind told me from the first momentI beheld thee, that thou wert the image of my friend! my heart thenopened itself to receive thee, as his offspring. I had a strangeforeboding that I was to be thy protector. I would then have madethee my own; but heaven orders things for the best; it made thee theinstrument of this discovery, and in its own time and manner conductedthee to my arms. Praise be to God for his wonderful doings towards thechildren of men! every thing that has befallen thee is by his direction,and he will not leave his work unfinished; I trust that I shall be hisinstrument to do justice on the guilty, and to restore the orphan ofmy friend to his rights and title. I devote myself to this service, andwill make it the business of my life to effect it."

  Edmund gave vent to his emotions, in raptures of joy and gratitude.They spent several hours in this way, without thinking of the time thatpassed; the one enquiring, the other explaining, and repeating, everyparticular of the interesting story.

  At length they were interrupted by the careful John Wyatt, who wasanxious to know if any thing was likely to give trouble to his master.

  "Sir," said John, "it grows dark--do you want a light?"

  "We want no light but what heaven gives us," said Sir Philip; "I knewnot whether it was dark or light."

  "I hope," said John, "nothing has happened, I hope your honour has heardno bad tidings; I--I--I hope no offence."

  "None at all," said the good knight; "I am obliged to your solicitudefor me; I have heard some things that grieve me, and others that give megreat pleasure; but the sorrows are past, and the joys remain."

  "Thank God!" said John; "I was afraid something was the matter to giveyour honour trouble."

  "I thank you, my good servant! You see this young gentleman; I wouldhave you, John, devote yourself to his service; I give you to him for anattendant on his person, and would have you show your affection to me byyour attachment to him."

  "Oh, Sir!" said John in
a melancholy voice, "what have I done to beturned out of your service?"

  "No such matter, John," said Sir Philip; "you will not leave myservice."

  "Sir," said John, "I would rather die than leave you."

  "And, my lad, I like you too well to part with you; but in serving myfriend you will serve me. Know, that this young man is my son."

  "Your son, sir!" said John.

  "Not my natural son, but my relation; my son by adoption, my heir!"

  "And will he live with you, sir?"

  "Yes, John; and I hope to die with