It had been one of those softly brilliant days in late October, which sometimes come as if to haunt us with the ghost of the dead and gone summer. The sun had set in a golden haze, and the amber reaches of the upper sky were darkening slowly as the shades of advancing night crept upward from the east, when Ethel and Everard met face to face in the park.
Everard had collected his rents and seen to various other matters, and on his way to the Chase had called at the bank and paid in his day\'s receipts. At the Chase he had seen neither Sir Gilbert nor John, but as he had nothing special to see the Baronet about, he had contented himself with leaving a note for him on the library table, having reference to one or two matters in which his employer was specially interested. He was ignorant of the return of Lady Pell and Ethel from The Shrublands when he set off to walk across the park home.
Scarcely had Lady Pell had time to take off her bonnet and cloak on her return, before she received a message to the effect that Sir Gilbert would like to see her in the blue parlour at her earliest convenience, and there she presently found both the Baronet and his son.
Then to her in turn was unfolded the extraordinary story which had been told by John to his father the night before, followed by a request that she would take upon herself the office of breaking the news to Ethel before either her father or grandfather should see the girl, which her ladyship willingly agreed to do.
Into the particulars either of that interview, or of the subsequent one between the astounded girl and the two men we need not enter. They must be left to the imagination of those readers who have followed our narrative thus far.
On one point only is it needful to give the details of what passed. It was after Lady Pell had broken her news and Ethel\'s bewildered faculties had recovered in part from the shock, that the latter said, "You have told me nothing about my mother, Lady Pell. Is she living or dead?"
So wholly unexpected was the question that for a few moments her ladyship was thoroughly nonplussed. Yet the question Ethel had asked was one natural to her sex and age. Whenever she had speculated about her unknown parents, or had indulged in daydreams about them, her silent cry had been, "Mother, where are you? Mother, I want you!" It was not a father whom her heart had gone out in search of. So now, when told that the father from whom she had been separated when an infant in arms, had in some wonderful and as yet unexplained way found her again, the question anent her mother sprang involuntarily to her lips.
"I have told you all that I was commissioned to tell you, my dear, and beyond that my lips are sealed," replied her ladyship with an amount of hesitation quite unusual with her. "Of your mother I can tell you nothing, and if you will take my advice, you will ask no question about her of either your father or your grandfather. You may rely upon it that you will be told all it is requisite for you to know, and beyond that I feel sure that you will not seek to pry."
It is almost needless to state that at the ensuing interview the name of Giovanna Clare was not mentioned. Ethel was still left purposely in the dark as regarded all those points of her history with which her mother was concerned, for since John Clare could not have spoken of his wife to their daughter except in terms of the severest censure, he preferred not to speak of her at all. On one point, however, Ethel was quite clear, for her father had given her distinctly to understand that it was entirely due to Everard Lisle\'s efforts that they two had been brought together.
The moment the interview was over she had hurried to her room. Her eyes were dim with tears, but they were tears of happiness. She wanted to be alone--she wanted to sit quietly with shut eyes and try to realise the change which had come over her life within the last two hours. So strange and wonderful did it seem, that more than once she asked herself, in all seriousness, whether it was true that she was really awake and not the victim of some inexplicable hallucination.
As she stood before the window, she caught sight of Everard Lisle crossing the park on his way to the Chase. He had left the dog-cart, which had taken him on his rounds, at Elm Lodge, not knowing how long he might be detained by Sir Gilbert.
Ethel\'s heart seemed to stop beating for a couple of seconds and then went on at express pace. She had not seen her lover for a whole week, and now that they were both back at the Chase what less than a fairy-tale was it that she had to pour into his ear? Hastily putting on her outdoor things she left the house by a side door, and crossing the park to a spot where five huge elms grew within touch of each other, there waited. Close by ran the narrow footpath which led from the Chase to a door in the boundary wall of the park of which Everard Lisle possessed a key, and three minutes\' walk beyond which was Elm Lodge. It was by this footpath that he went to and from the Chase, and so saved himself a long detour by way of the main entrance to the park.
Not long had Ethel to wait. Presently she saw Everard in the distance, pacing along with downcast mien and eyes which seemed to see nothing, unless it were some inward pictures conjured up by his own fancy. As a rule his bearing was so resolute and self-assured, he fronted the world so confidently, that Ethel could not help being struck by the change.
Not till Everard was within a few yards of her did Ethel emerge from the umbrage of the trees and go slowly to meet him. He gave a great start the moment his eyes fell on her, and all his face lighted suddenly up as she had foretold it would. Three or four quick strides brought him to her side, and the same instant she was enfolded in his arms and strained close to his heart. Gently disengaging herself she said--
"Is this the way to treat an unprotected female? You ought really to try to get the better of your primitive instincts. Marriage by capture went out centuries ago. But, oh, Everard, I have so much to tell you!"
She took his arm and together they began to pace slowly to and fro in the shadow of the great trees.
"Do you know, sir, in whose company you are?" she playfully went on presently. "Do you know that she who is now speaking to you is Miss Clare of Withington Chase?"
Everard stopped dead.
"Then what I thought must be true has come true!" he said; and on the instant all the gladness died out of his face, and half his youth seemed to go with it.
But Ethel was not looking at him just then and saw nothing of the change.
"Yes," she resumed, "henceforth my name will be Ethel Thursby Clare. Only an hour ago I was told. I am no longer a waif, a nobody\'s child. The mystery of my birth is a mystery no longer. I have found a father, a grandfather, a home--though, thanks to my dear aunts, I have never known the want of the last--and I owe them all to you--to you--to you!" As she spoke she faced him suddenly and gazed at him with deep love and devotion in her eyes.
"But do you not see, cannot you comprehend," cried Everard in deep dejection, "how this change in your fortunes affects the whole position of affairs as between you and me? When I sought and won from you a promise to become my wife, I knew you only as Ethel Thursby, a portionless girl no higher in the social scale than myself. To-day I know you as the descendant of an old and honoured family, as the granddaughter of a man both proud and rich, who will naturally be justified in expecting that when Miss Clare marries it will be some person very different from one of his own salaried dependents."
"When you took me for your promised wife, you did so with your eyes open, knowing me to be what I was--a nameless waif--and having no certainty that one day it might not be shown that I was the offspring of beggars, or worse. But did you allow that prospect to deter you in the least? You know well and I know well that you did not; and if it had been proved that I was the descendant of a family of thieves instead of the Clares of Withington, I have such faith in your love for me that I believe you would sti............