“But he did not know before that you are Lord Clare’s heiress, a countess in your own right—one of the richest women in England?”
“Are you mad, Chaleco, raving mad?”
“Almost—but with joy, my Gitanilla. Listen! your mother was married to Lord Clare. I do not speak of the Alhambra ceremony, but here, legally by the laws of Scotland, under which you were born. In this country, a man has but to live with a woman, acknowledge her as his wife, before witnesses, and she is a legal wife, her children legal heirs before any court in Great Britain. We have this proof here, in Lord Clare’s own writing, in the old people with whom he left your mother.”
“And how did you know of this law, Chaleco?”
“Zana, there is not a thing that could affect you which I have not studied to the centre. Half my life has been given up that you might prosper; and now, my beautiful countess, comes our triumph.”
With these triumphant words Chaleco went back to his fire again.
CHAPTER LII.
THE SHEEP-FARMER AND HIS WIFE.
I left the rock which had sheltered me, and went in search of Cora, resolved at once to expose the perfidy so cruelly enforced upon me. I found her sitting drearily beneath the larches. At my approach she lifted her head with a look of sullen apprehension, as if she dreaded further importunity. I was terribly excited, and breathless, and doubtless pale. It was impossible for me to begin my painful subject with delicacy or caution.
“Cora,” I said, “Cora, I have seen him—he is a wretch—he is infamous!”
“Seen him!—seen him! when? where?” she cried, looking wildly around.