CHAPTER V.

THE SON AT LAST.

The curtain moved again, and two persons came slowly into the room; a man whose wounded arm was carried in a sling and whose livid face was marked by recent wounds,--a boy, whose graceful form was enveloped in a closely fitting frock-coat, while his young face was shaded by locks of glossy hair.

"Martin Fulmer! behold the lost child of Gulian Van Huyden!" cried Colonel Tarleton, urging the boy forward.

At sight of Tarleton, Martin Fulmer felt his whole being contract with loathing, but rushing forward, he seized the boy by the arms, and looked earnestly into his face,--a face touching in its expression, with clear, deep eyes, that now seemed blue, now gray, and round outlines, and framed in locks of flowing hair, of the richest chestnut brown.

"This,--this, is not Carl Raphael!" ejaculated Martin Fulmer, turning fiercely upon Tarleton,--

A smile crossed the bloodless lips of Tarleton.

"Not Carl Raphael, but still the son of Gulian. A word will explain all. On the last night of her life, Alice Van Huyden gave birth to two children: they were born within a half hour of each other. One was taken from her bed, and borne away by her husband. The other I bore to my home, educated as my own, and now he stands before you, the lawful heir of his father's estate. Look at his face, and, if you can, say that he is not Gulian's son."

This revelation was listened to with the most intense interest by Randolph, Godlike, Yorke,--and Gaspar Manuel, attracted from the fire-place by the sound of voices, looked over their shoulders at the singular group,--the boy, with Tarleton on one hand, and Martin Fulmer on the other.

Long and intently Martin Fulmer perused that youthful countenance, which, with downcast eyes, seemed to avoid his gaze.

"Carl Raphael Van Huyden is lost," exclaimed Martin Fulmer, "but the face, the look of Gulian Van Huyden lives again in this boy. Gentlemen, behold the son of Gulian Van Huyden, the heir to his estate!"

He urged the shrinking boy toward the light.

"I will not," cried the boy, raising his head and surveying the group with flashing eyes,--"I will not submit to be made an accomplice in this imposture--"

"Child!" said Tarleton, sternly.

"Nay, you shall not force me to it. Hear me one and all," and he tore open his coat and vest, and laid bare his breast, "I am the child of Gulian Van Huyden, but not his son."

It was a woman's bosom which the open vest bared to the light.

A dead stillness followed this revelation.

And the center of the group stood the beautiful girl in her male attire, her bosom heaving in the light, while her eyes flashed through their tears.

"I will not submit to be made the accomplice of this man's schemes," she pointed to Tarleton,--"As the daughter of Gulian Van Huyden, I cannot inherit my father's estate."

At this point, Gaspar Manuel stepped forward,--"Yes you can, my child," he said, and drew the disguised girl to his breast, "it is your father himself who tells you so, daughter." And he kissed her on the forehead, while his dark hair hid her face.

Then as he held her in his arms, he raised his face, and with one hand, swept back the dark hair from his brow,--"Martin Fulmer, don't you remember me?" and then to Colonel Tarleton,--"and you, brother, you certainly don't forget me?"

That scene cannot be painted in words.

"Gulian!" was all that Tarleton or Charles Van Huyden could say, as he shrank back appalled and blasted before his brother's smile.

As for Martin Fulmer, after one eager and intense look, he felt his knees bend beneath him, and his head droop on his breast, as he uttered his soul in the words,--"It is Gulian come back to life again."