“Beware,” said Luke to Ranulph, who was preparing to obey his mother’s commands; “I am no robber—no murderer. Do not make me a fratricide.”
“Fratricide!” echoed Ranulph.
“Heed him not,” ejaculated Lady Rookwood. “It is false—he dares not harm thee for his soul. I will call assistance.”
“Hold, mother!” exclaimed Ranulph, detaining Lady Rookwood; “this man may be what he represents himself. Before we proceed to extremities I would question him. I would not have mentioned it in your hearing could it have been avoided, but my father had another son.”
Lady Rookwood frowned. She would have checked him, but Luke rejoined:
“You have spoken the truth; he had a son—I am he. I—”
“Be silent, I command you,” said Lady Rookwood.
“Death!” cried Luke, in a loud voice. “Why should I be silent at your bidding—at yours—who regard no laws, human or divine; who pursue your own fell purposes, without fear of God or man? Waste not your frowns on me—I heed them not. Do you think I am like a tame hound, to be cowed to silence? I will speak. Ranulph Rookwood, the name you bear is mine, and by a right as good as is your own. From his loins, who lies a corpse before us, I sprang. No brand of shame is on my birth. I am your father’s son—his first-born—your elder brother. Hear me!” cried he, rushing to the bier. “By this body, I swear that I have avouched the truth—and though to me the dead Sir Piers Rookwood hath never been what a father should be to a son—though I have never known his smile, felt his caresses, or received his blessing, yet now be all forgiven, forgotten.” And he cast himself with frantic violence upon the coffin.
It is difficult to describe the feelings with which Ranulph heard Luke’s avowal. Amazement and dread predominated. Unable to stir, he stood gazing on in silence. Not so, Lady Rookwood. The moment for action was arrived. Addressing her son in a low tone, she said, “Your prey is within your power. Secure him.”
“Wherefore?” rejoined Ranulph: “if he be my brother, shall I raise my hand against him?”
“Wherefore not?” returned Lady Rookwood.
“‘Twere an accursed deed,” replied Ranulph. “The mystery is resolved. ‘Twas for this that I was summoned home.”
“Ha! what say you? summoned! by whom?”
“My father!”
“Your father?” echoed Lady Rookwood, in great surprise.
“Ay, my dead father! He has appeared to me since his decease.”
“Ranulph, you rave—you are distracted with grief—with astonishment.”
“No, mother; but I will not struggle against my destiny.”
“Pshaw! your destiny is Rookwood, its manors, its land, its rent-roll, and its title; nor shall you yield it to a baseborn churl like this. Let him prove his rights. Let the law adjudge them to him, and we will yield—but not till then. I tell thee he has not the right, nor can he maintain it. He is a deluded dreamer, who, having heard some idle tale of his birth, believes it, because it chimes with his wishes. I treated him with the scorn he deserved. I would have driven him from my presence, but he was armed, as you see, and forced me hither, perhaps to murder me; a deed he might have accomplished, had it not been for your intervention. His life is already forfeit, for an attempt of the same sort last night. Why else came he hither? for what else did he drag me to this spot? Let him answer that!”
“I will answer it,” replied Luke, raising himself from the bier. His face was of an ashy paleness, and ghastly as the corpse over which he leaned. “I had a deed to do, which I wished you to witness. It was a wild conception. But the means by which I have acquired the information of my rights were wild. Ranulph, we are both the slaves of fate. You have received your summons hither—I have had mine. Your father’s ghost called you; my mother’s spectral hand beckoned me. Both are arrived. One thing more remains, and my mission is completed.” Saying which, he drew forth the skeleton hand; and having first taken the wedding-ring from the finger, he placed the withered limb upon the left breast of his father’s body. “Rest there,” he cried, “for ever.”
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