"Who speaks?" she cried, wildly, putting her hair back from her face and staring at him as if she recognised him not. "Ha, Fitzroy, is it thou? Oh, I thought I loved thee! Yet I would have been thy bride if Heaven had not made me his! Yes, Robert, I am thine—thine!" she added, with wild passion.
"My child wedded to a pirate—"
"Who calls him a pirate? He is Lester's earl!" cried the poor maiden.
"Lester's earl!" cried the countess, rushing forward. "'Tis my son, then—my son!"
"Nay—back. Listen, all of ye!" said the sorceress, striding into the midst. "I can tell ye a mystery and solve it, my lord! This pirate was the Earl of Lester; but, being convinced that he was a bastard and the son of a fisherman, fled from home and became what you see him!"
"This young Robert of Lester?" exclaimed the earl; "now do I recognise his features!"
"Interrupt me not!" she said, harshly. "The true Lord of Lester was a lad called Mark Meredith, and there he stands, a third time risen from the sea to thwart my schemes! Countess of Lester, in him behold your son!"
The lady looked a moment and scanned his features with increasing amazement.
"My lord—himself! The mother's heart owns her son!"
And Fitzroy, to his surprise, found himself clasped for the first time in a mother's embrace.