FAMILY FRIEND. SEPTEMBER, 1866. WILLIAM FITZ-OSBERT. A STORY OF LONDON LIFE IN THE DAYS OF RICHARD CHAPTER XVI. MOTHER AND SON. HE chamber in which Sir Hugh and the Lady de Danedred were engaged in angry altercation was a small apartment at the eastern extremity of the Tower. The walls were covered with oak, and one narrow window dimly lighted the massive panels and heavy furniture. As the gloom of a winter's afternoon gradually overspread the cold grey sky, black and solemn shadows filled the corners of the room, and closed round mother and son. The last dull rays of the fading day fell across Sir Hugh's pale brow and quivering lips, and shed a small gleam of light on the crown of a steel helmet that hung on the wall. "What horrible infatuation led you to this crime?" There was deep hoarseness in the tone of Sir Hugh's voice, as he asked this question, that betrayed the intense agitation of his mind. "Your welfare," was the firm and brief reply. My welfare? Woman-I cannot call you mother—are you mad? My welfare? Guilt, dishonour, and shame prepared as an heritage for your child-and for his welfare? Think you that I can live within these walls, and enjoy the power secured to me by the agony and death of an innocent and helpless woman-that I can look with pride at the trophics of my brave father's prowess with this foul stain upon the honour of his house? You have injured me-you have injured yourself more than your victim, or her unhappy husband, by this cruel deed. Heaven will guard her soul, and Heaven will com VOL. II. M fort her honest husband and motherless child, but this curse of blood will haunt us to our tombs." "The curse of blood rests on me-you are innocent," replied the Lady de Danedred, standing erect and motionless. "Innocent with the blood of a murderess flowing in my veins? Am I not your son ?" "Alas, I would you had never been born!" Her voice trembled as she uttered this exclamation, and she buried her face in her hands. "I would so, too! Then you would have been preserved from crime, and the honour of our house would have been sacred." "Hugh!" cried the Lady de Danedred; "I have done all this for you. For your happiness-for your good I sacrificed even my soul. I believed you would never learn my secret. I thought that, ignorant of what I had done, you would have grown up to enjoy power and fame, and for this I steeled my heart against all mercy, all pity; I shut out every invading whisper of conscience, and even dared to face eternal perdition. But for an unlucky accident you would never have discovered my secret, and your return home would have been graced with new honour and power. This castle was won by your great grandfather's stout heart and strong arm, and but for the foolish whim of a weak moment there could never have been a question of your right. What are these mean and boarish Saxons that we should be so nice and dainty in dealing unto them such truly balanced justice? Did not our forefathers wrench this land from their hands in fair and manly battle? There, upon that wall, still hangs the battered helmet worn by your brave ancestors in the mighty rush and turmoil of Hastings' field. You will see the marks of Saxon arrows on its front as thick as the cells in a honeycomb. It was the recollection of all this that smote me when I saw your right to this Tower and to these lands in peril. Let the dishonour of my action rest with me. You are innocent-the past cannot be repaired-and none can now dispute your claim to Danedred Tower." With folded arms and knitted brows, Sir Hugh listened to his mother's words. Although she evinced more excitement than usual, she maintained enough control over herself to speak with somewhat of her wonted tone of haughty calmness. For a few moments after she had finished Sir Hugh paced up and down the small room in silence, but his mother still stood like a dark statue in the deep shadow by the window. Very different were her thoughts from his. The Lady de Danedred had recovered the first surprise and shock caused by the knowledge of her son's discovery and his violent indignation. Her intellect was keen and ready. She saw her position and decided on her course of action. She saw that her scheme had been ruthlessly exposed and somewhat injured, but it had not yet entirely failed. She had lost perhaps the love and respect of her son, but she had secured for him the lands and home of his forefathers. Perhaps she might regain the respect and love when time had inured him to the intrigues of the world, and he found himself enjoying the undisputed right to property that, but for her desperate stratagem, might have been transferred to another. To bring about these results she had dwelt impressively on the doings. of Sir Hugh's ancestors. She knew that he had some of his father's chivalrous pride in his veins, and by exciting that she hoped to distract his attention from the enormity of her crime. Sir Hugh as he paced slowly and moodily past his mother was dwelling on her words. "The past cannot be repaired." How could he repair the citizen lawyer's life of desolation? How could he recompense Nelly for the revolting cruelty which deprived her of a gentle mother? There was one way, one glorious and happy way to restore the mere worldly riches of which she had been robbed by his mother's guilty deeds. The thought filled his impetuous nature with enthusiasm, and nerved him against the heartless worldly arguments that he had just heard. "You say the past cannot be repaired," he said, suddenly checking his impatient perambulation, and facing the Lady de Danedred. "It is true we cannot recall the young and innocent wife from her long sleep of death, nor can we heal the wounded heart of the honest man from whom you tore her so mercilessly to be a sacrifice to your ambition and intolerable pride; but there is one course yet before me by which I can make some small recompense for the evil done. I shall bring Nelly Fitz-Osbert home here to be my wife, and she shall be mistress of Danedred Tower!" The Lady de Danedred moved her hands nervously with astonishment, and she spoke with great excitement. "Have you lost your reason that you talk thus? Have you lost all sense of honour ?" "Honour," interrupted Sir Hugh, "prompts me to the course that I have named." "A poor ill-bred citizen's daughter mistress of Danedred Tower! Is this to be the end of all my care for you-this to be the end of our noble line of Norman 'Hughs' ?" "I neither want your advice nor your opinion on this matter. I have told you my resolution. Fitz-Osbert is a clever and able scholar, learned in the laws, and his daughter is worthy to be the consort of the wealthiest noble in the kingdom. Do you forget that she is descended from the Saxon owner of these lands? "Forget? What good ere came from the churlish race? I hate the whole. "Peace! You have said enough! I am master here, and though I have the misfortune to be your son, I cannot grant you either the privilege or the respect due to a parent." Sir Hugh spoke with the forced calmness and precision inspired by an unwavering resolution. A great fear came upon his mother as she looked at his pale face, and felt the cold, hard words striking at her heart, and shutting out all hope of control over him. The punishment had come. The rod of Heaven was upon her, and bitterly she writhed under the avenging blow. The one object of all her affections--her own son, on whom she had centred all her love, and hope, and pride, until love, hope, and pride became selfish in their intensity, and excluded all sympathy for the outer world-that son now stood before her, with a bitter scorn on his lips, and a defiant fire in his eye. The silent plotting, scheming and planning that had occupied her secret thoughts-the selfish love, pride, ambition, hope and fear which constituted the narrow world concealed beneath her cold and haughty exterior-all had now collapsed. It was impossible to doubt the irrevocable determination of her son. Hitherto he had only displayed the impulsive and impatient nature inherited from his chivalrous father, but a touch of her own firmness now displayed itself; and as she gazed at his compressed lip and flashing eye she saw that opposition was hopeless-she saw that the long dream of her life had dissolved-she saw that she stood alone between a gloomy past and a terrible future, with nothing left but misery in the one and regret for the other. For a moment a feeling of pity smote Sir Hugh's heart as he observed in the pale light the strange expression of mental torture in his mother's face, but the feeling was quickly dispelled by the overwhelming consciousness of her guilt. "I command you," he said with the same stern, resolute tone of voice, "to leave this castle within three days, and never again to return within the shelter of these walls." "Hugh! Hugh!" cried the Lady de Danedred, "remember that I am your mother. I may have done wrong, but I did it all for you. You may be just in your anger, but you may also be merciful." "That you are my mother," answered Sir Hugh coldly, "I know too well to my shame and sorrow; that you have done wrong—a vile, hideous crime-the great God above is a judge. For mercy you must look to Him. You had no mercy on the helpless, innocent woman whom you tore from her husband and child to a horrible death-what mercy can you expect from man or Heaven?" A shudder and an audible sigh were the only response. "This interview is painful to us both," continued Sir Hugh; "there is no need to prolong it. I have said all I have to say." "Hugh! on my knees I implore you to recall this sentence of my |