"I have done you wrong, sir, and I ask your forgiveness--in nocommon phrase, or show of sorrow; but with earnestness andsincerity. In the same spirit, I acknowledge to you both that thetime has been when I connived at treachery and falsehood--which ifI did not perpetrate myself, I still permitted--to rend you twoasunder."
"You judge yourself too harshly," said Edward. "Let these thingsrest."
"They rise in judgment against me when I look back, and not now forthe first time," he answered. "I cannot part from you without yourfull forgiveness; for busy life and I have little left in commonnow, and I have regrets enough to carry into solitude, without addition to the stock."
"You bear a blessing from us both," said Emma. "Never minglethoughts of me--of me who owe you so much love and duty--withanything but undying affection and gratitude for the past, andbright hopes for the future."
"The future," returned her uncle, with a melancholy smile, "is abright word for you, and its image should be wreathed withcheerful hopes. Mine is of another kind, but it will be one ofpeace, and free, I trust, from care or passion. When you quitEngland I shall leave it too. There are cloisters abroad; and nowthat the two great objects of my life are set at rest, I know nobetter home. You droop at that, forgetting that I am growing old,and that my course is nearly run. Well, we will speak of it again-notonce or twice, but many times; and you shall give me cheerfulcounsel, Emma."
"And you will take it?" asked his niece.
"I"ll listen to it," he answered, with a kiss, "and it will haveits weight, be certain. What have I left to say? You have, oflate, been much together. It is better and more fitting that the circumstances attendant on the past, which wrought your separation,and sowed between you suspicion and distrust, should not be enteredon by me."
"Much, much better," whispered Emma.
"I avow my share in them," said Mr Haredale, "though I held it, atthe time, in detestation. Let no man turn aside, ever so slightly,from the broad path of honour, on the plausible pretence that he isjustified by the goodness of his end. All good ends can he workedout by good means. Those that cannot, are bad; and may be countedso at once, and left alone."
He looked from her to Edward, and said in a gentler tone:
"In goods and fortune you are now nearly equal. I have been herfaithful steward, and to that remnant of a richer property which mybrother left her, I desire to add, in token of my love, a poorpittance, scarcely worth the mention, for which I have no longerany need. I am glad you go abroad. Let our ill-fated houseremain the ruin it is. When you return, after a few thrivingyears, you will command a better, and a more fortunate one. We arefriends?"
Edward took his extended hand, and grasped it heartily.
"You are neither slow nor cold in your response," said Mr Haredale,doing the like by him, "and when I look upon you now, and know you,I feel that I would choose you for her husband. Her father had agenerous nature, and you would have pleased him well. I give herto you in his name, and with his blessing. If the world and I partin this act, we part on happier terms than we have lived for many aday."
He placed her in his arms, and would have left the room, but thathe was stopped in his passage to the door by a great noise at adistance, which made them start and pause.
It was a loud shouting, mingled with boisterous acclamations, thatrent the very air. It drew nearer and nearer every moment, andapproached so rapidly, that, even while they listened, it burstinto a deafening confusion of sounds at the street corner.
"This must be stopped--quieted," said Mr Haredale, hastily. "Weshould have foreseen this, and provided against it. I will go outto them at once."
But, before he could reach the door, and before Edward could catchup his hat and follow him, they were again arrested by a loudshriek from above-stairs: and the locksmith"s wife, bursting in,and fairly running into Mr Haredale"s arms, cried out:
"She knows it all, dear sir!--she knows it all! We broke it out toher by degrees, and she is quite prepared." Having made thiscommunication, and furthermore thanked Heaven with great fervourand heartiness, the good lady, according to the custom of matrons,on all occasions of excitement, fainted away directly.
They ran to the window, drew up the sash, and looked into thecrowded street. Among a dense mob of persons, of whom not one wasfor an instant still, the locksmith"s ruddy face and burly formcould be descried, beating about as though he was struggling with arough sea. Now, he was carried back a score of yards, now onwardnearly to the door, now back again, now forced against the oppositehouses, now against those adjoining his own: now carried up aflight of steps, and greeted by the outstretched hands of half ahundred men, while the whole tumultuous concourse stretched theirthroats, and cheered with all their might. Though he was really ina fair way to be torn to pieces in the general enthusiasm, the locksmith, nothing discomposed, echoed their shouts till he was ashoarse as they, and in a glow of joy and right good-humour, wavedhis hat until the daylight shone between its brim and crown.
But in all the bandyings from hand to hand, and strivings to andfro, and sweepings here and there, which--saving that he lookedmore jolly and more radiant after every struggle--troubled hispeace of mind no more than if he had been a straw upon the water"ssurface, he never once released his firm grasp of an arm, drawntight through his. He sometimes turned to clap this friend uponthe back, or whisper in his ear a word of staunch encouragement, orcheer him with a smile; but his great care was to shield him fromthe pressure, and force a passage for him to the Golden Key.