Chapter X

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　The truth was that Mrs. Errol had found a great many sad thingsin the course of her work among the poor of the little villagethat appeared so picturesque when it was seen from themoor-sides. Everything was not as picturesque, when seen nearby, as it looked from a distance. She had found idleness andpoverty and ignorance where there should have been comfort andindustry. And she had discovered, after a while, that Erleborowas considered to be the worst village in that part of thecountry. Mr. Mordaunt had told her a great many of hisdifficulties and discouragements, and she had found out a greatdeal by herself. The agents who had managed the property hadalways been chosen to please the Earl, and had cared nothing forthe degradation and wretchedness of the poor tenants. Manythings, therefore, had been neglected which should have beenattended to, and matters had gone from bad to worse.As to Earl's Court, it was a disgrace, with its dilapidatedhouses and miserable, careless, sickly people. When first Mrs.Errol went to the place, it made her shudder. Such ugliness andslovenliness and want seemed worse in a country place than in acity. It seemed as if there it might be helped. And as shelooked at the squalid, uncared-for children growing up in themidst of vice and brutal indifference, she thought of her ownlittle boy spending his days in the great, splendid castle,guarded and served like a young prince, having no wishungratified, and knowing nothing but luxury and ease and beauty.And a bold thought came in her wise little mother-heart.Gradually she had begun to see, as had others, that it had beenher boy's good fortune to please the Earl very much, and that hewould scarcely be likely to be denied anything for which heexpressed a desire."The Earl would give him anything," she said to Mr. Mordaunt."He would indulge his every whim. Why should not thatindulgence be used for the good of others? It is for me to seethat this shall come to pass."She knew she could trust the kind, childish heart; so she toldthe little fellow the story of Earl's Court, feeling sure that hewould speak of it to his grandfather, and hoping that some goodresults would follow.And strange as it appeared to every one, good results did follow.The fact was that the strongest power to influence the Earl washis grandson's perfect confidence in him--the fact that Cedricalways believed that his grandfather was going to do what wasright and generous. He could not quite make up his mind to lethim discover that he had no inclination to be generous at all,and that he wanted his own way on all occasions, whether it wasright or wrong. It was such a novelty to be regarded withadmiration as a benefactor of the entire human race, and the soulof nobility, that he did not enjoy the idea of looking into theaffectionate brown eyes, and saying: "I am a violent, selfishold rascal; I never did a generous thing in my life, and I don'tcare about Earl's Court or the poor people"--or something whichwould amount to the same thing. He actually had learned to befond enough of that small boy with the mop of yellow love-locks,to feel that he himself would prefer to be guilty of an amiableaction now and then. And so--though he laughed at himself--aftersome reflection, he sent for Newick, and had quite a longinterview with him on the subject of the Court, and it wasdecided that the wretched hovels should be pulled down and newhouses should be built."It is Lord Fauntleroy who insists on it," he said dryly; "hethinks it will improve the property. You can tell the tenantsthat it's his idea." And he looked down at his small lordship,who was lying on the hearth-rug playing with Dougal. The greatdog was the lad's constant companion, and followed him abouteverywhere, stalking solemnly after him when he walked, andtrotting majestically behind when he rode or drove.Of course, both the country people and the town people heard ofthe proposed improvement. At first, many of them would notbelieve it; but when a small army of workmen arrived andcommenced pulling down the crazy, squalid cottages, people beganto understand that little Lord Fauntleroy had done them a goodturn again, and that through his innocent interference thescandal of Earl's Court had at last been removed. If he had onlyknown how they talked about him and praised him everywhere, andprophesied great things for him when he grew up, how astonishedhe would have been! But he never suspected it. He lived hissimple, happy, child life,--frolicking about in the park; chasingthe rabbits to their burrows; lying under the trees on the grass,or on the rug in the library, reading wonderful books and talkingto the Earl about them, and then telling the stories again to hismother; writing long letters to Dick and Mr. Hobbs, who respondedin characteristic fashion; riding out at his grandfather's side,or with Wilkins as escort. As they rode through the market town,he used to see the people turn and look, and he noticed that asthey lifted their hats their faces often brightened very much;but he thought it was all because his grandfather was with him."They are so fond of you," he once said, looking up at hislordship with a bright smile. "Do you see how glad they arewhen they see you? I hope they will some day be as fond of me.It must be nice to have everybody like you." And he felt quiteproud to be the grandson of so greatly admired and beloved anindividual.When the cottages were being built, the lad and his grandfatherused to ride over to Earl's Court together to look at them, andFauntleroy was full of interest. He would dismount from hispony and go and make acquaintance with the workmen, asking themquestions about building and bricklaying, and telling them thingsabout America. After two or three such conversations, he wasable to enlighten the Earl on the subject of brick-making, asthey rode home."I always like to know about things like those," he said,"because you never know what you are coming to."When he left them, the workmen used to talk him over amongthemselves, and laugh at his odd, innocent speeches; but theyliked him, and liked to see him stand among them, talking away,with his hands in his pockets, his hat pushed back on his curls,and his small face full of eagerness. "He's a rare un," theyused to say. "An' a noice little outspoken chap, too. Not mucho' th' bad stock in him." And they would go home and tell theirwives about him, and the women would tell each other, and so itcame about that almost every one talked of, or knew some storyof, little Lord Fauntleroy; and gradually almost every one knewthat the "wicked Earl" had found something he cared for atlast--something which had touched and even warmed his hard,bitter old heart.But no one knew quite how much it had been warmed, and how day byday the old man found himself caring more and more for the child,who was the only creature that had ever trusted him. He foundhimself looking forward to the time when Cedric would be a youngman, strong and beautiful, with life all before him, but havingstill that kind heart and the power to make friends everywhere,and the Earl wondered what the lad would do, and how he would usehis gifts. Often as he watched the little fellow lying upon thehearth, conning some big book, the light shining on the brightyoung head, his old eyes would gleam and his cheek would flush."The boy can do anything," he would say to himself,"anything!"He never spoke to any one else of his feeling for Cedric; when hespoke of him to others it was always with the same grim smile.But Fauntleroy soon knew that his grandfather loved him andalways liked him to be near--near to his chair if they were inthe library, opposite to him at table, or by his side when herode or drove or took his evening walk on the broad terrace."Do you remember," Cedric said once, looking up from his bookas he lay on the rug, "do you remember what I said to you thatfirst night about our being good companions? I don't think anypeople could be better companions than we are, do you?""We are pretty good companions, I should say," replied hislordship. "Come here."Fauntleroy scrambled up and went to him."Is there anything you want," the Earl asked; "anything youhave not?"The little fellow's brown eyes fixed themselves on hisgrandfather with a rather wistful look."Only one thing," he answered."What is that?" inquired the Earl.Fauntleroy was silent a second. He had not thought matters overto himself so long for nothing."What is it?" my lord repeated.Fauntleroy answered."It is Dearest," he said.The old Earl winced a little."But you see her almost every day," he said. "Is not thatenough?""I used to see her all the time," said Fauntleroy. "She usedto kiss me when I went to sleep at night, and in the morning shewas always there, and we could tell each other things withoutwaiting."The old eyes and the young ones looked into each other through amoment of silence. Then the Earl knitted his brows."Do you never forget about your mother?" he said."No," answered Fauntleroy, "never; and she never forgets aboutme. I shouldn't forget about you, you know, if I didn't livewith you. I should think about you all the more.""Upon my word," said the Earl, after looking at him a momentlonger, "I believe you would!"The jealous pang that came when the boy spoke so of his motherseemed even stronger than it had been before; it was strongerbecause of this old man's increasing affection for the boy.But it was not long before he had other pangs, so much harder toface that he almost forgot, for the time, he had ever hated hisson's wife at all. And in a strange and startling way ithappened. One evening, just before the Earl's Court cottageswere completed, there was a grand dinner party at Dorincourt.There had not been such a party at the Castle for a long time. Afew days before it took place, Sir Harry Lorridaile and LadyLorridaile, who was the Earl's only sister, actually came for avisit--a thing which caused the greatest excitement in thevillage and set Mrs. Dibble's shop-bell tinkling madly again,because it was well known that Lady Lorridaile had only been toDorincourt once since her marriage, thirty-five years before.She was a handsome old lady with white curls and dimpled, peachycheeks, and she was as good as gold, but she had never approvedof her brother any more than did the rest of the world, andhaving a strong will of her own and not being at all afraid tospeak her mind frankly, she had, after several lively quarrelswith his lordship, seen very little of him since her young days.She had heard a great deal of him that was not pleasant throughthe years in which they had been separated. She had heard abouthis neglect of his wife, and of the poor lady's death; and of hisindifference to his children; and of the two weak, vicious,unprepossessing elder boys who had been no credit to him or toany one else. Those two elder sons, Bevis and Maurice, she hadnever seen; but once there had come to Lorridaile Park a tall,stalwart, beautiful young fellow about eighteen years old, whohad told her that he was her nephew Cedric Errol, and that he hadcome to see her because he was passing near the place and wishedto look at his Aunt Constantia of whom he had heard his motherspeak. Lady Lorridaile's kind heart had warmed through andthrough at the sight of the young man, and she had made him staywith her a week, and petted him, and made much of him and admiredhim immensely. He was so sweet-tempered, light-hearted, spiriteda lad, that when he went away, she had hoped to see him oftenagain; but she never did, because the Earl had been in a badhumor when he went back to Dorincourt, and had forbidden him everto go to Lorridaile Park again. But Lady Lorridaile had alwaysremembered him tenderly, and though she feared he had made a rashmarriage in America, she had been very angry when she heard howhe had been cast off by his father and that no one really knewwhere or how he lived. At last there came a rumor of his death,and then Bevis had been thrown from his horse and killed, andMaurice had died in Rome of the fever; and soon after came thestory of the American child who was to be found and brought homeas Lord Fauntleroy."Probably to be ruined as the others were," she said to herhusband, "unless his mother is good enough and has a will of herown to help her to take care of him."But when she heard that Cedric's mother had been parted from himshe was almost too indignant for words."It is disgraceful, Harry!" she said. "Fancy a child of thatage being taken from his mother, and made the companion of a manlike my brother! He will either be brutal to the boy or indulgehim until he is a little monster. If I thought it would do anygood to write----""It wouldn't, Constantia," said Sir Harry."I know it wouldn't," she answered. "I know his lordship theEarl of Dorincourt too well;--but it is outrageous."Not only the poor people and farmers heard about little LordFauntleroy; others knew him. He was talked about so much andthere were so many stories of him--of his beauty, his sweettemper, his popularity, and his growing influence over the Earl,his grandfather--that rumors of him reached the gentry at theircountry places and he was heard of in more than one county ofEngland. People talked about him at the dinner tables, ladiespitied his young mother, and wondered if the boy were as handsomeas he was said to be, and men who knew the Earl and his habitslaughed heartily at the stories of the little fellow's belief inhis lordship's amiability. Sir Thomas Asshe of Asshawe Hall,being in Erleboro one day, met the Earl and his grandson ridingtogether, and stopped to shake hands with my lord andcongratulate him on his change of looks and on his recovery fromthe gout. "And, d' ye know," he said, when he spoke of theincident afterward, "the old man looked as proud as aturkey-cock; and upon my word I don't wonder, for a handsomer,finer lad than his grandson I never saw! As straight as a dart,and sat his pony like a young trooper!"And so by degrees Lady Lorridaile, too, heard of the child; sheheard about Higgins and the lame boy, and the cottages at Earl'sCourt, and a score of other things,--and she began to wish to seethe little fellow. And just as she was wondering how it might bebrought about, to her utter astonishment, she received a letterfrom her brother inviting her to come with her husband toDorincourt."It seems incredible!" she exclaimed. "I have heard it saidthat the child has worked miracles, and I begin to believe it.They say my brother adores the boy and can scarcely endure tohave him out of sight. And he is so proud of him! Actually, Ibelieve he wants to show him to us." And she accepted theinvitation at once.When she reached Dorincourt Castle with Sir Harry, it was late inthe afternoon, and she went to her room at once before seeing herbrother. Having dressed for dinner, she entered thedrawing-room. The Earl was there standing near the fire andlooking very tall and imposing; and at his side stood a littleboy in black velvet, and a large Vandyke collar of rich lace--alittle fellow whose round bright face was so handsome, and whoturned upon her such beautiful, candid brown eyes, that shealmost uttered an exclamation of pleasure and surprise at thesight.As she shook hands with the Earl, she called him by the name shehad not used since her girlhood."What, Molyneux!" she said, "is this the child?""Yes, Constantia," answered the Earl, "this is the boy.Fauntleroy, this is your grand-aunt, Lady Lorridaile.""How do you do, Grand-Aunt?" said Fauntleroy.Lady Lorridaile put her hand on his shoulders, and after lookingdown into his upraised face a few seconds, kissed him warmly."I am your Aunt Constantia," she said, "and I loved your poorpapa, and you are very like him.""It makes me glad when I am told I am like him," answeredFauntleroy, "because it seems as if every one liked him,--justlike Dearest, eszackly,--Aunt Constantia" (adding the two wordsafter a second's pause).Lady Lorridaile was delighted. She bent and kissed him again,and from that moment they were warm friends."Well, Molyneux," she said aside to the Earl afterward, "itcould not possibly be better than this!""I think not," answered his lordship dryly. "He is a finelittle fellow. We are great friends. He believes me to be themost charming and sweet-tempered of philanthropists. I willconfess to you, Constantia,--as you would find it out if I didnot,--that I am in some slight danger of becoming rather an oldfool about him.""What does his mother think of you?" asked Lady Lorridaile,with her usual straightforwardness."I have not asked her," answered the Earl, slightly scowling."Well," said Lady Lorridaile, "I will be frank with you at theoutset, Molyneux, and tell you I don't approve of your course,and that it is my intention to call on Mrs. Errol as soon aspossible; so if you wish to quarrel with me, you had bettermention it at once. What I hear of the young creature makes mequite sure that her child owes her everything. We were told evenat Lorridaile Park that your poorer tenants adore her already.""They adore him," said the Earl, nodding toward Fauntleroy."As to Mrs. Errol, you'll find her a pretty little woman. I'mrather in debt to her for giving some of her beauty to the boy,and you can go to see her if you like. All I ask is that shewill remain at Court Lodge and that you will not ask me to go andsee her," and he scowled a little again."But he doesn't hate her as much as he used to, that is plainenough to me," her ladyship said to Sir Harry afterward. "Andhe is a changed man in a measure, and, incredible as it may seem,Harry, it is my opinion that he is being made into a human being,through nothing more nor less than his affection for thatinnocent, affectionate little fellow. Why, the child actuallyloves him--leans on his chair and against his knee. His ownchildren would as soon have thought of nestling up to a tiger."The very next day she went to call upon Mrs. Errol. When shereturned, she said to her brother:"Molyneux, she is the loveliest little woman I ever saw! Shehas a voice like a silver bell, and you may thank her for makingthe boy what he is. She has given him more than her beauty, andyou make a great mistake in not persuading her to come and takecharge of you. I shall invite her to Lorridaile.""She'll not leave the boy," replied the Earl."I must have the boy too," said Lady Lorridaile, laughing.But she knew Fauntleroy would not be given up to her, and eachday she saw more clearly how closely those two had grown to eachother, and how all the proud, grim old man's ambition and hopeand love centered themselves in the child, and how the warm,innocent nature returned his affection with most perfect trustand good faith.She knew, too, that the prime reason for the great dinner partywas the Earl's secret desire to show the world his grandson andheir, and to let people see that the boy who had been so muchspoken of and described was even a finer little specimen ofboyhood than rumor had made him."Bevis and Maurice were such a bitter humiliation to him," shesaid to her husband. "Every one knew it. He actually hatedthem. His pride has full sway here." Perhaps there was not oneperson who accepted the invitation without feeling some curiosityabout little Lord Fauntleroy, and wondering if he would be onview.And when the time came he was on view."The lad has good manners," said the Earl. "He will be in noone's way. Children are usually idiots or bores,--mine wereboth,--but he can actually answer when he's spoken to, and besilent when he is not. He is never offensive."But he was not allowed to be silent very long. Every one hadsomething to say to him. The fact was they wished to make himtalk. The ladies petted him and asked him questions, and the menasked him questions too, and joked with him, as the men on thesteamer had done when he crossed the Atlantic. Fauntleroy didnot quite understand why they laughed so sometimes when heanswered them, but he was so used to seeing people amused when hewas quite serious, that he did not mind. He thought the wholeevening delightful. The magnificent rooms were so brilliant withlights, there were so many flowers, the gentlemen seemed so gay,and the ladies wore such beautiful, wonderful dresses, and suchsparkling ornaments in their hair and on their necks. There wasone young lady who, he heard them say, had just come down fromLondon, where she had spent the "season"; and she was socharming that he could not keep his eyes from her. She was arather tall young lady with a proud little head, and very softdark hair, and large eyes the color of purple pansies, and thecolor on her cheeks and lips was like that of a rose. She wasdressed in a beautiful white dress, and had pearls around herthroat. There was one strange thing about this young lady. Somany gentlemen stood near her, and seemed anxious to please her,that Fauntleroy thought she must be something like a princess.He was so much interested in her that without knowing it he drewnearer and nearer to her, and at last she turned and spoke tohim."Come here, Lord Fauntleroy," she said, smiling; "and tell mewhy you look at me so.""I was thinking how beautiful you are," his young lordshipreplied.Then all the gentlemen laughed outright, and the young ladylaughed a little too, and the rose color in her cheeksbrightened."Ah, Fauntleroy," said one of the gentlemen who had laughedmost heartily, "make the most of your time! When you are olderyou will not have the courage to say that.""But nobody could help saying it," said Fauntleroy sweetly."Could you help it? Don't you think she is pretty, too?""We are not allowed to say what we think," said the gentleman,while the rest laughed more than ever.But the beautiful young lady--her name was Miss VivianHerbert--put out her hand and drew Cedric to her side, lookingprettier than before, if possible."Lord Fauntleroy shall say what he thinks," she said; "and Iam much obliged to him. I am sure he thinks what he says." Andshe kissed him on his cheek."I think you are prettier than any one I ever saw," saidFauntleroy, looking at her with innocent, admiring eyes, "exceptDearest. Of course, I couldn't think any one quite as pretty asDearest. I think she is the prettiest person in the world.""I am sure she is," said Miss Vivian Herbert. And she laughedand kissed his cheek again.She kept him by her side a great part of the evening, and thegroup of which they were the center was very gay. He did notknow how it happened, but before long he was telling them allabout America, and the Republican Rally, and Mr. Hobbs and Dick,and in the end he proudly produced from his pocket Dick's partinggift,--the red silk handkerchief."I put it in my pocket to-night because it was a party," hesaid. "I thought Dick would like me to wear it at a party."And queer as the big, flaming, spotted thing was, there was aserious, affectionate look in his eyes, which prevented hisaudience from laughing very much."You see, I like it," he said, "because Dick is my friend."But though he was talked to so much, as the Earl had said, he wasin no one's way. He could be quiet and listen when otherstalked, and so no one found him tiresome. A slight smile crossedmore than one face when several times he went and stood near hisgrandfather's chair, or sat on a stool close to him, watching himand absorbing every word he uttered with the most charmedinterest. Once he stood so near the chair's arm that his cheektouched the Earl's shoulder, and his lordship, detecting thegeneral smile, smiled a little himself. He knew what thelookers-on were thinking, and he felt some secret amusement intheir seeing what good friends he was with this youngster, whomight have been expected to share the popular opinion of him.Mr. Havisham had been expected to arrive in the afternoon, but,strange to say, he was late. Such a thing had really never beenknown to happen before during all the years in which he had beena visitor at Dorincourt Castle. He was so late that the guestswere on the point of rising to go in to dinner when he arrived.When he approached his host, the Earl regarded him withamazement. He looked as if he had been hurried or agitated; hisdry, keen old face was actually pale."I was detained," he said, in a low voice to the Earl, "by--anextraordinary event."It was as unlike the methodic old lawyer to be agitated byanything as it was to be late, but it was evident that he hadbeen disturbed. At dinner he ate scarcely anything, and two orthree times, when he was spoken to, he started as if his thoughtswere far away. At dessert, when Fauntleroy came in, he looked athim more than once, nervously and uneasily. Fauntleroy noted thelook and wondered at it. He and Mr. Havisham were on friendlyterms, and they usually exchanged smiles. The lawyer seemed tohave forgotten to smile that evening.The fact was, he forgot everything but the strange and painfulnews he knew he must tell the Earl before the night was over--thestrange news which he knew would be so terrible a shock, andwhich would change the face of everything. As he looked about atthe splendid rooms and the brilliant company,--at the peoplegathered together, he knew, more that they might see thebright-haired little fellow near the Earl's chair than for anyother reason,--as he looked at the proud old man and at littleLord Fauntleroy smiling at his side, he really felt quite shaken,notwithstanding that he was a hardened old lawyer. What a blowit was that he must deal them!He did not exactly know how the long, superb dinner ended. Hesat through it as if he were in a dream, and several times he sawthe Earl glance at him in surprise.But it was over at last, and the gentlemen joined the ladies inthe drawing-room. They found Fauntleroy sitting on the sofa withMiss Vivian Herbert,--the great beauty of the last London season;they had been looking at some pictures, and he was thanking hiscompanion as the door opened."I'm ever so much obliged to you for being so kind to me!" hewas saying; "I never was at a party before, and I've enjoyedmyself so much!"He had enjoyed himself so much that when the gentlemen gatheredabout Miss Herbert again and began to talk to her, as he listenedand tried to understand their laughing speeches, his eyelidsbegan to droop. They drooped until they covered his eyes two orthree times, and then the sound of Miss Herbert's low, prettylaugh would bring him back, and he would open them again forabout two seconds. He was quite sure he was not going to sleep,but there was a large, yellow satin cushion behind him and hishead sank against it, and after a while his eyelids drooped forthe last time. They did not even quite open when, as it seemed along time after, some one kissed him lightly on the cheek. Itwas Miss Vivian Herbert, who was going away, and she spoke to himsoftly."Good-night, little Lord Fauntleroy," she said. "Sleepwell."And in the morning he did not know that he had tried to open hiseyes and had murmured sleepily, "Good-night--I'm so--glad --Isaw you--you are so--pretty----"He only had a very faint recollection of hearing the gentlemenlaugh again and of wondering why they did it.No sooner had the last guest left the room, than Mr. Havishamturned from his place by the fire, and stepped nearer the sofa,where he stood looking down at the sleeping occupant. LittleLord Fauntleroy was taking his ease luxuriously. One leg crossedthe other and swung over the edge of the sofa; one arm was flungeasily above his head; the warm flush of healthful, happy,childish sleep was on his quiet face; his waving tangle of brighthair strayed over the yellow satin cushion. He made a picturewell worth looking at.As Mr. Havisham looked at it, he put his hand up and rubbed hisshaven chin, with a harassed countenance."Well, Havisham," said the Earl's harsh voice behind him."What is it? It is evident something has happened. What wasthe extraordinary event, if I may ask?"Mr. Havisham turned from the sofa, still rubbing his chin."It was bad news," he answered, "distressing news, mylord--the worst of news. I am sorry to be the bearer of it."The Earl had been uneasy for some time during the evening, as heglanced at Mr. Havisham, and when he was uneasy he was alwaysill-tempered."Why do you look so at the boy!" he exclaimed irritably. "Youhave been looking at him all the evening as if--See here now, whyshould you look at the boy, Havisham, and hang over him like somebird of ill-omen! What has your news to do with LordFauntleroy?""My lord," said Mr. Havisham, "I will waste no words. My newshas everything to do with Lord Fauntleroy. And if we are tobelieve it--it is not Lord Fauntleroy who lies sleeping beforeus, but only the son of Captain Errol. And the present LordFauntleroy is the son of your son Bevis, and is at this moment ina lodging-house in London."The Earl clutched the arms of his chair with both his hands untilthe veins stood out upon them; the veins stood out on hisforehead too; his fierce old face was almost livid."What do you mean!" he cried out. "You are mad! Whose lie isthis?""If it is a lie," answered Mr. Havisham, "it is painfully likethe truth. A woman came to my chambers this morning. She saidyour son Bevis married her six years ago in London. She showedme her marriage certificate. They quarrelled a year after themarriage, and he paid her to keep away from him. She has a sonfive years old. She is an American of the lower classes,--anignorant person,--and until lately she did not fully understandwhat her son could claim. She consulted a lawyer and found outthat the boy was really Lord Fauntleroy and the heir to theearldom of Dorincourt; and she, of course, insists on his claimsbeing acknowledged."There was a movement of the curly head on the yellow satincushion. A soft, long, sleepy sigh came from the parted lips,and the little boy stirred in his sleep, but not at allrestlessly or uneasily. Not at all as if his slumber weredisturbed by the fact that he was being proved a small impostorand that he was not Lord Fauntleroy at all and never would be theEarl of Dorincourt. He only turned his rosy face more on itsside, as if to enable the old man who stared at it so solemnly tosee it better.The handsome, grim old face was ghastly. A bitter smile fixeditself upon it."I should refuse to believe a word of it," he said, "if itwere not such a low, scoundrelly piece of business that itbecomes quite possible in connection with the name of my sonBevis. It is quite like Bevis. He was always a disgrace to us.Always a weak, untruthful, vicious young brute with lowtastes--my son and heir, Bevis, Lord Fauntleroy. The woman is anignorant, vulgar person, you say?""I am obliged to admit that she can scarcely spell her ownname," answered the lawyer. She is absolutely uneducated andopenly mercenary. She cares for nothing but the money. She isvery handsome in a coarse way, but----"The fastidious old lawyer ceased speaking and gave a sort ofshudder.The veins on the old Earl's forehead stood out like purple cords.Something else stood out upon it too--cold drops of moisture. Hetook out his handkerchief and swept them away. His smile greweven more bitter."And I," he said, "I objected to--to the other woman, themother of this child" (pointing to the sleeping form on thesofa); "I refused to recognize her. And yet she could spell herown name. I suppose this is retribution."Suddenly he sprang up from his chair and began to walk up anddown the room. Fierce and terrible words poured forth from hislips. His rage and hatred and cruel disappointment shook him asa storm shakes a tree. His violence was something dreadful tosee, and yet Mr. Havisham noticed that at the very worst of hiswrath he never seemed to forget the little sleeping figure on theyellow satin cushion, and that he never once spoke loud enough toawaken it."I might have known it," he said. "They were a disgrace to mefrom their first hour! I hated them both; and they hated me!Bevis was the worse of the two. I will not believe this yet,though! I will contend against it to the last. But it is likeBevis--it is like him!"And then he raged again and asked questions about the woman,about her proofs, and pacing the room, turned first white andthen purple in his repressed fury.When at last he had learned all there was to be told, and knewthe worst, Mr. Havisham looked at him with a feeling of anxiety.He looked broken and haggard and changed. His rages had alwaysbeen bad for him, but this one had been worse than the restbecause there had been something more than rage in it.He came slowly back to the sofa, at last, and stood near it."If any one had told me I could be fond of a child," he said,his harsh voice low and unsteady, "I should not have believedthem. I always detested children--my own more than the rest. Iam fond of this one; he is fond of me" (with a bitter smile)."I am not popular; I never was. But he is fond of me. He neverwas afraid of me--he always trusted me. He would have filled myplace better than I have filled it. I know that. He would havebeen an honor to the name."He bent down and stood a minute or so looking at the happy,sleeping face. His shaggy eyebrows were knitted fiercely, andyet somehow he did not seem fierce at all. He put up his hand,pushed the bright hair back from the forehead, and then turnedaway and rang the bell.When the largest footman appeared, he pointed to the sofa."Take"--he said, and then his voice changed a little--"takeLord Fauntleroy to his room."