“Is this some dream?” said Lord Pinemount, in a subdued voice.
“No, sir—the broad sunlight of fact. There, my dear cousin, Lady Pinemount, is eager to take my darling in her arms, and you are as eager to grasp the hand of as true and brave a young fellow as ever stepped. Will you order the carriage, Lady Pinemount?”
“But—but,” faltered Lord Pinemount, “do I understand that you will not ask me to give up the title—the estate?”
“Only when the great end comes, and your son reigns in your stead—and ours, sir. God bless him! for I love him as if he was my son. Lady Pinemount—cousin, sister—you will come on at once?”
She could not speak, but pressed the hand he gave her and held it to her lips.
“But what magic is this?” whispered Denis two hours later, when he had felt the warm grasp of his father’s hand, and seen him kiss and bless Veronica, who was now seated on a couch with Lady Pinemount’s arm round her waist “Doctor Salado’s magic, my dear boy. Some day I will give you the recipe. There—never mind now. You will represent the family tree, and its finest limb is not sawn off.”