“Quite right, sir,” the captain assented, and a moment later he left the room, walking erect between the factor and Lieutenant Boyd.
“Now for your story,” I said, turning to Flora. “I have not the least idea how—”
“Let me see that ring, Denzil,” she interrupted—“the one you showed me once before.”
I took it from my pocket—the seal ring that had belonged to my father—and the moment he saw it Christopher Burley cried out:
“The Heathermere crest!”
“Yes, the same that was on the letters Captain Rudstone took from the trunk!” exclaimed Flora. “It was this discovery, made at the time, that roused my suspicions. Instead of saying anything about the matter, I determined to watch Captain Rudstone. I crept last night to an empty room adjoining his and observed him through a hole in the wall. He had the papers out, and was talking to himself; but he could not make up his mind to destroy them. To-night, when I heard him pass my door, I slipped to the room again. I was just in time, for he had made a fire in the stove. I knew he was going to burn the papers. I dashed into his room, snatched them from him, and held him at bay with a pistol. I think I fired at him in my excitement, but I fortunately missed. And then—then you came to my assistance.”
“My darling, can you ever forgive me?” I said to her, in a low voice. “You have given me riches and a title, and how basely I repaid your efforts in my behalf! To think that I could have suspected you for a single moment!”
“Hush! it is all forgotten and forgiven,” she replied. “But we had better give each other up, Denzil. You don’t want me for your wife—you, a peer of England, with a long line of noble ancestors!”
My answer satisfied her scruples—the others had meanwhile left the room, and as she lay trembling in my arms, I felt how unworthy I was of all the gifts Heaven had bestowed upon me.
It is time to write Finis. A few more words and the curtain will drop on the story of my life. That night, to my secret delight and to the factor’s great relief, Captain Rudstone effected his escape. He dropped from the window of the room in which he was confined, scaled the stockade and vanished in the wilderness. No search was made for him, and I have heard nothing of him from that day to this. I often think of him, and I would give much to see him once again. He is probably dead, for if he were living now he would be more than eighty years of age.