"When he had reached the age of twenty-one he announced to his father his resolve to discover his mother's fate. Sir Boyvill was highly indignant. The only circumstance that at all mitigated the disgrace of his wife's flight was the oblivion into which she and all concerning her had sunk. To have new inquiries set on foot, and the forgotten shame recalled to the memories of men, appeared not less wicked than insane. He remonstrated, he grew angry, he stormed, he forbade; but Gerard considered that time had set a limit to his authority, and only withdrew in silence, not the less determined to pursue his own course. "I need not say that he met with no success; a mystery so impenetrable at first, does not acquire clearness after time has obscured the little ever known. Whatever were the real circumstances and feelings that occasioned her flight, however innocent she might then be, time has cemented his mother's union with another, and made her forget those she left behind. Or may I not say, what I am inclined to believe, that though the violence of another was the cause at last of guilt in her, yet she pined for those she deserted--that her heart was soon broken--that the sod has long since covered her form--while the miserable man who caused all this evil is but too eager to observe a silence which prevents his name from being loaded with the execrations he deserves? I cannot help, therefore, regretting that Gerard insists upon discovering the obscure grave of his miserable mother--while he, who, whether living or dead, believes her to have been always innocent, is to be dissuaded by no arguments, still less by the angry denunciations of Sir Boyvill, whose conduct throughout he looks on as being the primal cause of his mother's misfortunes. "I have told you the tale, as nearly as I can, in the spirit in which Gerard himself would have communicated it--such was my tacit pledge to him; nor do I wish, by my suspicions or conjectures, to deprive him of your sympathy, and the belief he wishes you to entertain of his mother's innocence; but truth will force its way, and who can think her wholly guiltless? Would to God! oh, how often and how fervently have I prayed that Gerard were cured of the madness which renders his life a wild, unprofitable dream; and, looking soberly on the past, consent to bury in oblivion misfortunes and errors which are beyond all cure, and which it is worse than vain to remember." CHAPTER XXI There was to Elizabeth a fascinating interest in the story related by Lady Cecil. Elizabeth had no wild fairy-like imagination. Her talents, which were remarkable, her serious, thoughtful mind, was warmed by the vital heat emanating from her affections--whatever regarded these, moved her deeply.