With a stately tread, the lonely girl descended the stair, when Major Harry Hardwicke tapped at her door, gently saying: “The carriage waits below. And—some one waits there to cheer you on your way onward to Life and Love! Remember, I follow on at once.” Nadine Johnstone sprang lightly into the carriage. With a gentle art, the soldier turned away his head and quickly cried, “Drive on!” when the door closed. The orderly at a sign followed the closed vehicle. It was a sweet surprise. Love’s coup de main!
Nadine Johnstone never turned her head toward the dark martello tower, for a woman’s arms were now clasped around her, and loving lips pressed her own. “Free at last, my own darling! Free!” cried Alixe Delavigne, as she strained her gentle captive to her bosom. “My own poor darling! Now, we shall never be parted! My darling! My Valerie’s own image!”
“And, my mother?” faltered the lovely girl, the sunrise of hope flooding her cheek with affection’s glow of dawn. “My sister—your mother—looks down from Heaven upon us, joined after many years!” sobbed Alixe. A softer pillow never had maiden’s head than Alixe Delavigne’s throbbing bosom.
“Did you not feel in your heart that love led me to your side, my darling? That I crossed the wide world to find you, and to fight my way to your heart?” murmured Alixe.
“Ah! Justine always said there was a marvelous resemblance!” faltered Nadine. “She must be sent for now! At once! Poor Justine!”
“She waits for you, even now, at Edgemere! I must save you, now, from hearing the story of strangers!” said Alixe, taking the girl’s trembling hands. “Major Hardwicke telegraphed to her at Geneva, in your name, to come on here at once. For, while we have sunshine mantling around us, she, alone, must follow Alan Hawke’s body to an unknown grave.”
“Is he—that terrible man—indeed dead?” gasped Nadine.
“You passed his body that night when they led you from the tower,” gravely said Alixe. “He fell, fighting as a criminal, by the hand of Captain Murray, who struck only to save your liberty, and his own life. The civil authorities will not unveil the dark past of a man who once wore the Queen’s uniform in honor. General Wragge and the authorities have softened the blow to Justine Delande, whom he would have made his dupe. You must only know this, darling, from me—from me, alone! And so, to shield poor, faithful Justine, we will all leave Jersey at once. Strange irony of fate. The Viceroy has cabled that Ram Lal Singh has paid over twenty thousand pounds, to be held for Justine Delande, to whom Alan Hawke left all his dearly bought bribes; and also the money he left hidden at Granville—jewels and notes to the value of ten thousand pounds more. The wages of sin, even death, was all he gained, and, strangely, through him, Justine will be shielded from penury; for she bears a broken heart. All that she knows is of his sudden death.
“And now, darling, for I must tell you, the assassin of your father has saved his miserable life by a full confession made to General Willoughby. None but myself must ever tell you that your father’s memory, your uncle’s liberty were all involved in a tangled story of olden greed, intrigue, shame, and crime. Let the dead past rest unchallenged. The seal of the tomb will be unbroken. And it is your mother’s tender love that will gild your bridal. Let me be your sister forever. None but you and I must know the history until others have a right to it.”
“Has—has Harry told you of our coming marriage?” faltered Nadine, hiding her head in her kinswoman’s breast. There were fleeting blushes as rosy as the Alpenglow now tinging her pale cheek. Nadine Johnstone saw her new-found sister now glowing in a woman’s gentle triumph. She had a secret of her own!