CHAPTER XVIII A CRANIOLOGICAL EXPERIMENT
Idris Breakspear strolled slowly to and fro beneath the lime-trees in the garden of Wave Crest, reading for the twentieth time a letter received by him the previous evening.
Accompanying the letter was a note worded thus:—"The enclosed speaks for itself. Can you ever forgive me for my seven years' silence?—Lorelie Rochefort."
The missive forwarded to Idris was her mother's confession relative to the murder of M. Duchesne, a confession which, it need scarcely be said, overwhelmed Idris with amazement.
The hope entertained by him during so many long years was at last realized: it was now within his power to clear his father's memory; but the knowledge brought with it as much pain as pleasure, for to establish his father's innocence was to bring ignominy upon the name of the woman he loved.
A soft footfall attracted his attention, and raising his eyes from the letter he saw Lady Walden herself. Sadly and timidly she stood, obviously in doubt as to the sort of reception she would meet with. To face the reproachful eyes of Idris was a more trying ordeal than that of accompanying the earl to the terrible vault.
She was the first to speak.
"You are reading my mother's letter, I perceive. You know now that it was my father and not yours that murdered Duchesne. I have come," she faltered, "I have come to ask, yet scarcely daring to ask, whether you can forgive me for maintaining silence hitherto. I have longed to tell you the truth, but have been afraid. Do not," she added, breathlessly, "do not reproach me. You cannot reproach me more than my own conscience has."