“I have done so to disencumber myself of the weight of an injustice.”
“And this is the youth you would accuse of deception?” said Lady Kilgoff, haughtily.
“Forgive me, Lady; forgive one who has suffered too heavily from the world not to fall into the error of thinking once unjustly of a benefactor.”
“I have no title to the name, sir,” said Cashel. “Nay, more. I am your debtor for wealth which I squandered, believing it my own.”
“I knew him better than any of you,” cried old Dr. Tiernay, rushing forward and grasping Cashel by both hands. “My own generous, high-hearted boy. Come here, Mary; tell him candidly that you, too, were always of my opinion. This is no time for coyness. Let us have a little honesty after all this deception.” He drew Cashel to one side, and, in a deep whisper, said, “What of that Spanish girl?—Are you married or not?”
Roland smiled at the eagerness of the old man's manner, and, in half-sadness, said, “Poor Maritaña is now a fugitive—we know not where.”
A sudden commotion at the door, and a tumult of voices, interrupted the scene, and Rica rushed in, crying in ecstasy, “She is found—my child is found!”
The travellers of the diligence passing through the wood of Versailles had discovered the form of a sleeping girl at the foot of a tree, and carried her back with them to Paris. Enrique himself, being among them, recognized her at once, and soon succeeded in finding out Rica, into whose arms he restored her.
While Rica hurriedly poured forth this explanation, old Corrigan stood tremulous with agitation, and at last, advancing towards him, said, “Leicester, I am no longer afraid to meet you. Fortune has, at last, favored me. I am rich now, and can make you rich also.”
Rica started back: a sudden sickness came over him, and he fell powerless at the old man's feet.