"'What has come between us, Meurig?' he said. 'What has become of the
faithful love of so many years? Is it possible you have grudged me the
shelter of your roof and the food that I have eaten? I can scarcely
believe it, and yet I fear it is true. Enclosed I leave you a cheque
which will pay for anything I may have cost you; further than that I
can only thank you for your, I fear, unwilling hospitality, and pray
that some day we may meet, when this mysterious cloud, which I have
deplored so much, may have cleared away.
"'When you read this, Ellen and I will have been married at St.
Jorwerth's Church at Caer Madoc, and shall, I hope, have sailed for
Australia, where you know I have long wished to go.' "'Betto,' I said, 'is she lying dead and still upstairs?' "'Yes, master, poor angel! still enough and white enough in her coffin!
Why, sir, why?' "'Because I wonder she does not come down and reproach us, for we have
been wronging her from beginning to end, Betto! These letters prove to
me that my brother--my beloved, innocent brother--was deeply in love
with her cousin, Ellen Vaughan, and she, in the tenderness of her
heart, helped to bring about their union, and was the means of
delivering the letters which they wrote to each other. They were
married this morning at Caer Madoc Church, and have probably already
sailed for Australia.' "Betto left me, sobbing bitterly. I think she has never forgiven
herself; neither can I forgive myself, Cardo. As the years went on, my
sorrow only deepened, and an intense longing arose in my heart for the
friendship of the brother who had been so much to me for so many years.
I wrote to him, Caradoc--a humble, penitent letter, beseeching his
forgiveness even as a man begs for his life. He has never answered my
letter. I know he is alive and thriving, as he writes sometimes to Dr.
Hughes; but to me he has never sent a message or even acknowledged my
letter, and I thirst for his forgiveness--I cannot die without it.
"I have long cherished the thought that when you came to man's estate I
would send you to him. I would send the best of earthly treasure that
I possess--my only son--to plead for me, to explain for me, and to
bring back his love and forgiveness. Now, Cardo, will you go?"
"I will, father," said Cardo, rising and placing his hand in his
father's.
"And can you think over what I have told you and still retain a little
love and pity for your old father?"
"Father, I feel nothing but the deepest sorrow and pity for you
both--father and mother. I don't know which is to be pitied most.
Thank you for telling me all this, it explains so much that has puzzled
me--it accounts for your sadness and gloom--and--and your apparent
coldness. I will go to Australia, and, please God, I will bring back
my uncle's love and forgiveness to you."