"Your husband is all alone," she remarked, turning to her visitor. "Suppose we go and sit with him for a while. I have some sewing to do, and it will be much nicer out there than in the house."
Mr. Randall smiled as the women came and sat down by his side. He was pleased to see his wife looking better than she had for years. The city paper, which had arrived at noon, was lying unopened on a little table by his side which Jess had placed there to hold the books and cigars which she hoped he would use. She had left him to go with John and the hired man into the hay field. She was never happier than when out in the open, and John was always delighted to have her with him. Their hearts were full of love, and the world seemed filled with peace and joy on this beautiful summer afternoon.
As the two women sat under the shade of the tree and talked, Mr. Randall listened for a while in a somewhat absent-minded manner. At length be reached out his hand and took the newspaper from off the table. He read first the financial news which interested him most of all. Then he turned over the pages and glanced carelessly at the events of the day. The various accounts of political meetings, murders, and local incidents had little or no appeal to him, and he was about to lay the paper aside when something caught his eye, which arrested his immediate attention, and caused an exclamation of surprise to escape his lips.
"What is it, Henry?" his wife asked. "Anything special?"
"I should say there is," was the emphatic reply. "Donaster has been arrested for forgery."
Mrs. Randall gave a startled cry, and leaned excitedly forward.
"Arrested!" she exclaimed. "How terrible!"
"Yes, it certainly is," Randall replied, as he rapidly scanned the article. "He is not the son of Lord Donaster, for there is no such person by that name. That fellow is an impostor, and his father is a shoemaker in the United States. His real name, so this paper says, is William Lukie, and the police have been on his tracks for some time for forging the names of several prominent business men. So that's the end of that rascal, and I'm not sorry."
Mr. Randall put down the paper, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Mrs. Hampton had let her sewing drop upon her lap, and her eyes were fixed full upon the invalid's face. She was thinking rapidly, and her heart beat fast, for she had made up her mind that the great revelation must be made at all cost.
"So your daughter, then, will no longer be troubled with that man," she remarked as casually as possible.