It was a pitiful sight to see that brave, strong young man weep thus over the discovery of the faithfulness of his loved one.
It was almost more than Lord Cameron could bear and retain his composure, while Lady Cameron wept unrestrainedly.
Wilhelm Mencke and his wife sat stolidly by viewing this affecting sight, one racked with feelings of mingled anger, guilt, and remorse, the other uneasily considering the chances of trouble for himself regarding the disposition of Violet's fortune.
But Wallace soon mastered his emotion; he was not one to remain long inactive when there was anything to be done.
"My faithful, true-hearted little wife!" he murmured, as he dashed aside his tears, new hope and courage already glowing on his face, "her love and instinct were stronger than the force of circumstances. But," starting again to his feet, "I must find her; I must follow her to the ends of the earth, if need be, and when I do find her, as I surely shall,"—with a stern glance at Mr. and Mrs. Mencke—"nothing save death shall ever separate us again."
A chill ran over every listener at these confident words, and an ominous silence fell over the shrinking group.
"Have you any idea whither she went? Has any one tried to follow her?" Wallace asked, turning to Lord Cameron, and wondering why he should look so ghastly; why Lady Cameron's sobs should have burst forth again with renewed violence.
"Every possible effort was made to find her; day after day we have searched for her," began his lordship, falteringly.
"And you have learned nothing—gained no clew?" impatiently demanded the anxious young husband.
"Nothing—until the day before yesterday."