"But it is air over now, and in a few hours more you will be with him."
"And you know him, Gerald! You have seen him and talked with him! No wonder some instinct of the heart bade me love you."
Gerald kissed her again--whether for the twentieth or twenty-first time in the short space of thirty minutes, matters nothing to nobody. He felt that he had long arrears to make up. Then he went on with his story.
"The first time I ever saw Mr. Murray was in Miss Bellamy's sitting-room a few nights after my arrival in London in answer to her summons. Your father had escaped from prison, and had come to Miss Bellamy, as the only person living whom he knew, for shelter."
"Escaped! Oh! if I had only been there to receive him!"
"He and I became friends at once when he knew that I was the son of one whom his wife had known and loved so well. Fortunately, no very extreme search was made after him, and I may so far relieve your mind at once by telling you that he has never been re-captured. In making his escape from prison, Mr. Murray's mind seemed to be possessed by one idea, and one only. That idea was the possibility, or probability, of being able to prove to the world his innocence of the dreadful crime laid to his charge twenty long years ago.
"How and by what means this great end has at last been accomplished, it would take me too long to tell you in detail now. That may be left for an after occasion. That he has succeeded completely and fully in what for a long time seemed an utterly impossible task, this telegram in his own words is ample proof. Not till he should have so succeeded would he allow you to be communicated with, or even to be made aware of his existence."
"How very strange of him! If he had but trusted me!"
"But the troubles of the past are over now. I propose to start for London by the six o'clock train this evening, and to take you with me. We shall find your father waiting at Miss Bellamy's to receive you."
"This evening! See my father this very evening!"