"Then now learn the truth. This lady, your wife, is not the daughter of a convict. In her--how happy the telling of it makes me--behold my daughter, the child whom for seventeen years I have sought incessantly--my heiress, Lady Madaline Charlewood, the descendant of a race as honored, as ancient, and as noble as your own!"
Lord Arleigh listened like one in a dream. It could not be possible, it could not be true, his senses must be playing him false--he must be going mad. His wife--his deserted wife--the earl's long-lost daughter! It was surely a cruel fable.
His dark, handsome face grew pale, his hands trembled, his lips quivered like a woman's. He was about to speak, when Madaline sprang forward and clasped her arms around his neck.
"Oh, my darling," she cried, "it is true--quite true! You need not be afraid to kiss me and to love me now--you need not be afraid to call me your wife--you need not be ashamed of me any longer. Oh, my darling, believe me, I am not a thief's daughter. My father is here--an honorable man, you see, not a convict. Norman, you may love me now; you need not be ashamed of me. Oh, my love, my love, I was dying, but this will make me well!"
Her golden head drooped on to his breast, the clinging arms tightened their hold of him. The earl advanced to them.
"It is all true, Arleigh," he said. "You look bewildered, but you need not hesitate to believe it. Later on I will tell you the story myself, and we will satisfy all doubts. Now be kind to her; she has suffered enough. Remember, I do not blame you, nor does she. Believing what you did, you acted for the best. We can only thank Heaven that the mystery is solved; and you can take a fair and noble maiden, who will bring honor to your race, to your home."
"My love," said Madaline, "it seems to me a happy dream." When Lord Arleigh looked around again the earl had vanished and he was alone with his fair young wife.
Half an hour afterward Lord Arleigh and his wife stood together under the great cedar on the lawn. They had left the pretty drawing-room, with its cool shade and rich fragrance, and Lord Arleigh stood holding his wife's hand in his.
"You can really forgive me, Madaline?" he said. "You owe me no ill-will for all that I have made you suffer?"