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Updated: June 2, 2025
Then a change set in in my lord's bearing, and one day, a month or so later, he gave way to his father's insistence, and we were wed. But I do not believe that my lord had left a son in France I do not believe that had he done so, I should not have known it; I do not believe that under such circumstances, unfeeling as he was, he would have abandoned Mademoiselle de Maligny."
What are you saying?" And then her ladyship found her voice. "Who was your mother?" she inquired, and her very tone was an insult, not to the man who sat there so much as to the memory of poor Antoinette de Maligny. He flushed to the temples, then paled again. "I'll not name her to your ladyship," said he at, last, in a cold, imperious voice. "I'm glad ye've so much decency," she countered.
And again: "You dwelt at Maligny, and and your name is Caryll." Mr. Caryll looked up quickly, as if suddenly aware that his lordship was expressing surprise. "Why, yes," said he. "What is there odd in that?" "How does it happen that you come to live there? Are you at all connected with the family of Maligny? On your mother's side, perhaps?" Mr. Caryll took up his wine-glass.
For two years she dwelt at Maligny in such peace as the broken-hearted may know, the little of life that was left her irradiated by Everard's noble friendship. He wrote to her from time to time, now from Italy, now from Holland. But he never came to visit her. A delicacy, which may or may not have been false, restrained him.
For the rest, he had lavished Justin nobly for his mother's sake. The repurchased estates of Maligny, with their handsome rent roll, remained Justin's own, administered by Sir Richard during the lad's minority and vastly enriched by the care of that administration.
"Stand here beside me, and read it," said he. Obeying him, Rotherby went and read that authenticated copy, wherein it was declared that Sir Richard Everard had brought to the Church of St. Antoine for baptism a male child, which he had declared to be the son of John Caryll, Viscount Rotherby, and Antoinette de Maligny, and which had received in baptism the name of Justin.
It was on an excursion into Normandy that they had met Mademoiselle de Maligny, the daughter of an impoverished gentleman of the chetive noblesse of that province. Both had loved her. She had preferred as women will the outward handsomeness of Viscount Rotherby to the sounder heart and brain that were Dick Everard's.
Do you remember how Stapleton and Collis spoke up for me, declared that they had known me from boyhood at Oxford, and had visited me at my chateau in France? What was the name of that chateau, my lord do you remember?" Rotherby looked at him, searching his memory. But he did not need to search far. At first glance the name of Maligny had seemed familiar to him.
"'Tis a fact, though 'pon honor. My father would ha' broke me. Luckily she died." "Who died?" asked Mr. Caryll, with a show of interest. "The girl. Did I not tell you there was a girl? 'Twas she was the folly Antoinette de Maligny. But she died most opportunely, egad! 'Twas a very damned mercy that she did. It cut the the what d'ye call it knot?" "The Gordian knot?" suggested Mr. Caryll.
"It was Maligny," he replied, "and yet " "If more is needed to convince you, I can bring a hundred witnesses from France, who have known me from infancy. You may take it that I can establish my identity beyond all doubt." "And what if you do?" demanded her ladyship suddenly. "What if you do establish your identity as my lord's bastard? What claim shall that be upon us?"
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