As Jack had presaged, the Countess welcomed Bertha warmly.
“She is beautiful, is she not, mother?” asked Jack when they were alone.
“Yes,” said the Countess, “and she is poor. When I was married to your father he said I was beautiful, and I was poor.”
“You are beautiful now, mother,” said Jack, as he embraced her. “But Bertha is not poor. I thought she was, for her guardian told me so, but it turns out that she is rich.”
The three sat by the bedside of the dying man. The Earl of Noxton fixed his eyes intently upon Bertha.
“Who is she, John?” he asked, in a faint voice.
“She is my wife, father.”
“Ah, I remember, you told me about her. You said she was beautiful. I can see that for myself, but you also told me that she was poor. Well, your mother was both beautiful and poor when I married her, and I have never regretted that I made her a Countess. I hope you will not.”
Jack’s mother led Bertha away. “You must not mind his last words,” she said. “We knew that John had gone in search of you and we imagined what the end would be. The Earl’s father was opposed to our marriage, but Carolus was determined that I should be his wife, and I knew that John was like his father. My only wish is that the Earl could have lived to have seen you both happy.”
Jack stood by the bedside and took his father’s wasted hand in his. “Have I your forgiveness, father?”