“Oh, Wynnette! that is not generous of you! Can dear—can Roland help his misfortune? Is he to blame for being wrecked on our shore in his infancy, and losing everything, even his name? Oh, Wynnette!” said Rosemary, with tears in her eyes.
“No! I am not generous! I am a little catamount, and worse than that! It is not true, either, what I said about him! Roland is a fine fellow. And of course he must have been somebody’s son! Don’t cry, Rosie. I didn’t mean it, dear! Only the devil does get in me sometimes!” said the generous girl, stooping and kissing her quaint little friend.
Rosemary smiled through her tears; and then they went downstairs together.
And as this was the first, so it was the last time that the subject in dispute was mentioned between the two girls.
CHAPTER XXVII
LUCE’S DISCOVERY
As Wynnette and Rosemary approached the drawing room they heard a sweet confusion of laughing and talking within; which was explained as soon as Wynnette had opened the door.
Le had just arrived, and was in the midst of his friends shaking hands, hugging and kissing, asking and answering questions, all at once.
He rushed to Wynnette and Rosemary “at sight,” and gave them each a hearty, brotherly embrace.
“Yes,” he continued, with something that he had been saying when the girls came in—“yes, I have brought all the evidence we can possibly want or use—an overwhelming mass of evidence as to the marriage of Angus Anglesea and Ann Maria Wright at St. Sebastian, on August 1, 18—. That is proved and established beyond all doubt or question.”
“As if anybody ever did doubt it. The Lord knows if ever I had thought as any of you misdoubted as I was Anglesea’s lawful wedded wife, I wouldn’t a-stayed in this house one hour. Not I!” indignantly protested Mrs. Anglesea.