"My father, Gerald!" she cried, as she started to her feet. "Oh! say those words again!"
It was the first time she had called him by his real name, and it thrilled him strangely to hear it from her lips.
"Eleanor, your father--I do not speak of your adopted father this time--is still alive--is waiting and longing to see you. I had a telegram from him only a few hours ago. See, here it is." He took a telegram from his pocket, opened it, and read aloud as follows:
"Everything proved. Our task is at an end. Come at once, and bring my daughter with you."
These words, "my daughter," from a father whom she had never seen, moved Eleanor strangely. Her heart beat so fast, that for a little while she could not speak.
"If I have a father," she stammered out at last, "why did he not send for me before? Why have you kept me from him all this time?"
"The story that I have now to tell you," answered Gerald, "is a very painful one, but that it will have a happy ending there is proof positive in the telegram which we have just read together. It is the same story in substance as you will find told by Mr. Lloyd in the sealed packet. I think it will be better that I should tell it to you first, and leave you to read it afterwards."
Eleanor was trembling a little. She could not help it. She seemed to dread hearing what Gerald might yet have to tell her. He tried to comfort her after the foolish fashion of people in love. Then drawing her close to him, so that her head rested on his shoulder, he went on with his narrative.
"Many years ago, in a small provincial town more than two hundred miles from this place, there lived four young ladies who had all been schoolfellows together, and who, now that they were grown up, were bosom friends. One of these young ladies married a gentleman, Ambrose Murray by name, and a doctor by profession. You are their only child, and your name is Eleanor Murray. Another of the young ladies married Mr. Jacob Lloyd, and you were their adopted daughter. The third married my father. The fourth remained unmarried, and is your friend and mine--Miss Bellamy.
"A few months after you were born, a terrible misfortune befel your father. He was arrested on a false charge of murder, was tried, and condemned to die."