They robed her in white, as they had done the first Lady Alden; they covered her with flowers, they laid them on the silent breast, in the white hands, and crowned with them the golden head. So fair, and still, and silent she lay when Lord Lorriston and Kenelm Eyrle between them led the unhappy mother into the room. No words could tell her grief. Did there flash across her a memory of that evening so long ago when she had taken Sir Ronald into the sunlit garden to renew his friendship with Lady Hermione and Miss Severn? It was not until she had gone away and the two gentlemen stood in the death chamber alone, that Lord Lorriston remembered the packet. He spoke of it to Mr. Eyrle. “Will you fetch it, Kenelm?” he said, “and I will read it here in her presence. I have a conviction that there we shall find the key to the mystery.” Kenelm went in search of it. It lay on the table in the room where she died. He brought it at once to the earl, who took it from him. “Before I read what may be her justification, Kenelm,” said Lord Lorriston, “look at her face. Was anything ever so fair, so noble, so true? That face is but the index of a soul more fair, more noble, and truer still. Nor murder, nor jealousy, nor unholy hate ever marred the perfect beauty of that soul, or ever found a home there. That is the temple of a pure spirit--how could you so misjudge her?” “Only from her own words; and those I heard against my own will.” Lord Lorriston bent down and kissed that white brow. “There was no justification necessary, in my eyes,” he said; “still I will read what is written here.” CHAPTER LII. SIR RONALD’S CONFESSION. “Not to be opened until after my death,” was written on the outer cover of the packet in Sir Ronald’s bold, clear hand, “and then to be read by no one save my wife. Should she die first, under penalty of my curse I forbid this to be opened, and command it to be destroyed.” When Lord Lorriston had read that he showed it to Mr. Eyrle. “Will it be honorable for us to read the contents?” he asked. “Yes,” replied Mr. Eyrle, “a sudden idea has occurred to me, and in your daughter’s name, I think that paper should be read.” Lord Lorriston read it aloud, kneeling by the side of the beautiful dead woman, whose love had proved so fatal to herself and to him who loved her. It began: