Edmund bade them bring shovels and remove the earth. While they were gone, he desired Oswald to repeat all that passed the night they sat up together in that apartment, which he did till the servants returned. They threw out the earth, while the bystanders in solemn silence waited the event. After some time and labour they struck against something. They proceeded till they discovered a large trunk, which with some difficulty they drew out. It had been corded round, but the cords were rotted to dust. They opened it, and found a skeleton which appeared to have been tied neck and heels together, and forced into the trunk.
“Behold,” said Edmund, “the bones of him to whom I owe my birth!”
The priest from Lord Graham’s advanced. “This is undoubtedly the body of the Lord Lovel; I heard his kinsman confess the manner in which he was interred. Let this awful spectacle be a lesson to all present, that though wickedness may triumph for a season, a day of retribution will come!”
Oswald exclaimed. “Behold the day of retribution! of triumph to the innocent, of shame and confusion to the wicked!”
The young gentlemen declared that Edmund had made good his assertions.
“What then,” said they, “remains?”
“I propose,” said Lord Graham’s priest, “that an account be written of this discovery, and signed by all the witnesses present; that an attested copy be left in the hands of this gentleman, and the original be sent to the barons and Sir Philip Harclay, to convince them of the truth of it.”
Mr. Clifford then desired Edmund to proceed in his own way.
“The first thing I propose to do,” said he, “is to have a coffin made for these honoured remains. I trust to find the bones of my other parent, and to inter them all together in consecrated ground. Unfortunate pair! you shall at last rest together! your son shall pay the last duties to your ashes!”
He stopped to shed tears, and none present but paid this tribute to their misfortunes. Edmund recovered his voice and proceeded.
“My next request is, that Father Oswald and this reverend father, with whoever else the gentlemen shall appoint, will send for Andrew and Margery Twyford, and examine them concerning the circumstances of my birth, and the death and burial of my unfortunate mother.”
“It shall be done,” said Mr. William; “but first let me intreat you to come with me and take some refreshment after your journey, for you must be fatigued; after dinner we will proceed in the enquiry.”
They all followed him into the great hall, where they were entertained with great hospitality, and Mr. William did the honours in his father’s name. Edmund’s heart was deeply affected, and the solemnity of his deportment bore witness to his sincerity; but it was a manly sorrow, that did not make him neglect his duty to his friends or himself. He enquired after the health of the lady Emma.
“She is well,” said William, “and as much your friend as ever.”
Edmund bowed in silence.
After dinner the commissioners sent for Andrew and his wife. They examined them separately, and found their accounts agreed together, and were in substance the same as Oswald and Edmund had before related, separately also. The commissioners observed, that there could be no collusion between them, and that the proofs were indisputable. They kept the foster parents all night; and the next day Andrew directed them to the place where the Lady Lovel was buried, between two trees which he had marked for a memorial. They collected the bones and carried them to the castle, where Edmund caused a stately coffin to be made for the remains of the unfortunate pair. The two priests obtained leave to look in the coffin buried in the church, and found nothing but stones and earth in it. The commissioners then declared they were fully satisfied of the reality of Edmund’s pretensions.
The two priests were employed in drawing up a circumstantial account of these discoveries, in order to make their report to the barons at their return. In the meantime Mr. William took an opportunity to introduce Edmund to his sister.
“My Emma,” said he, “the heir of Lovel is desirous to pay his respects to you.”
They were both in apparent confusion; but Edmund’s wore off, and Emma’s increased.
“I have been long desirous,” said he, “to pay my respects to the lady whom I most honour, but unavoidable duties have detained me; when these are fully paid, it is my wish to devote the remainder of my life to Lady Emma!”
“Are you, then, the heir of Lovel?”
“I am, madam; and am also the man in whose behalf I once presumed to speak.”
“ ’Tis very strange indeed!”
“It is so, madam, to myself; but time that reconciles us to all things, will, I hope, render this change in my situation familiar to you.”
William said, “You are both well acquainted with the wishes of my heart; but my advice is, that you do not encourage a farther intimacy till my lord’s determination be fully known.”
“You may dispose of me as you please,” said Edmund; “but I cannot help declaring my wishes; yet I will submit to my Lord’s sentence, though he should doom me to despair.”
From this period, the young pair behaved with solemn respect to each other, but with apparent reserve. The young lady sometimes appeared in company, but oftener chose to be in her own apartment, where she began to believe and hope for the completion of her wishes. The uncertainty of the baron’s determination, threw an air of anxiety over Edmund’s face. His friend William, by the most tender care and attention, strove to dispel his fears, and encourage his hopes; but he waited with impatience for the return of the commissioners, and the decision of his fate.
While these things passed at the Castle of Lovel, the nominal baron recovered his health and strength at the house of Lord Clifford. In the same proportion he grew more and more
