The Heir of Mondolfo Read Online Free Page A

gently.
    "Ludovico," continued his father, while pride and a
wish to conciliate disturbed his mind and even his countenance,
"my son, I have used you hardly; but that time is now
past."
    Ludovico gently replied:
    "My father, I did not deserve your ill-treatment; I hope I
shall merit your kindness when I know--"
    "Yes, yes," interrupted Fernando, uneasily, "you
do not understand-- you desire to know why--in short, you,
Ludovico, are now all my hope-- Olympio is dead--the house of
Mondolfo has no support but you--"
    "Pardon me," replied the youth. "Mondolfo is in
no danger; you, my lord, are fully able to support and even to
augment its present dignity."
    "You do not understand. Mondolfo has no support but you. I
am old, I feel my age, and these gray hairs announce it to me too
glaringly. There is no collateral branch, and my hope must rest in
your children--"
    "My children, my lord!" replied Ludovico. "I have
only one; and if the poor little boy--"
    "What folly is this?" cried Fernando, impatiently.
"I speak of your marriage and not--"
    "My lord, my wife is ever ready to pay her dutious respects
to you--"
    "Your wife, Ludovico! But you speak without thought. How?
Who?"
    "The violet-girl, my lord."
    A tempest had crossed the countenance of Fernando. That his son,
unknown to him, should have made an unworthy alliance, convulsed
every fiber of his frame, and the lowering of his brows and his
impatient gesture told the intolerable anguish of such a thought.
The last words of Ludovico restored him. It was not his wife that
he thus named--he felt assured that it was not.
    He smiled somewhat gloomily, still it was a smile of
satisfaction.
    "Yes," he replied, "I understand; but you task my
patience--you should not trifle with such a subject or with me. I
talk of your marriage. Now that Olympio is dead, and you are, in
his place, heir of Mondolfo, you may, in his stead, conclude the
advantageous, nay, even princely, alliance I was forming for
him."
    Ludovico replied with earnestness:
    "You are pleased to misunderstand me. I am already married.
Two years ago, while I was still the despised, insulted Ludovico, I
formed this connection, and it will be my pride to show the world
how, in all but birth, my peasant-wife is able to follow the duties
of her distinguished situation."
    Fernando was accustomed to command himself. He felt as if
stabbed by a poniard; but he paused till calm and voice returned,
and then he said:
    "You have a child?"
    "An heir, my lord," replied Ludovico, smiling--for his
father's mildness deceived him--"a lovely, healthy
boy."
    "They live near here?"
    "I can bring them to Mondolfo in an hour's space. Their
cottage is in the forest, about a quarter of a mile east of the
convent of Santa Chiara."
    "Enough, Ludovico; you have communicated strange tidings,
and I must consider of them. I will see you again this
evening."
    Ludovico bowed and disappeared. He hastened to his cottage, and
related all that he remembered or understood of this scene, and
bade Viola prepare to come to the castle at an instant's
notice. Viola trembled; it struck her that all was not so fair as
Ludovico represented; but she hid her fears, and even smiled as her
husband with a kiss hailed his boy as heir of Mondolfo.
    Fernando had commanded both look and voice while his son was
within hearing. He had gone to the window of his chamber, and stood
steadily gazing on the drawbridge until Ludovico crossed it and
disappeared. Then, unrestrained, he strode up and down the
apartment, while the roof rang with his impetuous tread. He uttered
cries and curses, and struck his head with his clenched fist. It
was long ere he could think--he felt only, and feeling was torture.
The tempest at length subsided, and he threw himself in his chair.
His contracted brows and frequently-convulsed lips showed how
entirely he was absorbed in consideration. All at first was one
frightful whirl; by degrees, the motion was appeased; his thoughts
flowed with greater calmness;