But the truth had triumphed at last, as it always does. He stood exposed in all his baseness; his evil doings were revealed, and the shame and injury done to himself were far greater than he had ever dreamed of bringing upon her. Marion at last stood vindicated before the world as the pure and innocent girl she was, while the whole black catalogue of Sumner Dalton’s guilt was now sweeping down like an avalanche upon him, threatening to ruin and crush him utterly. He might live ten, twenty, even thirty years longer, but his treachery would follow him forever; it would never be forgotten by any one who had known of it. Henceforth he would be a marked man, and one never more to be trusted or honored. “Stay!” Mr. Dalton suddenly exclaimed, as if a new thought had struck him. “The legal husband of Marion Vance would have rights there even now. I will see to this matter. Who has been master at Wycliffe all these years?” “Warrenton Fairfield Vance, my mother’s father, has ruled there until his death, which occurred only a few months ago,” Earle answered, quietly, but reading at once what was passing in the man’s mind. “And who came into the property then?” he demanded, eagerly. “A cousin of my mother’s—Paul Tressalia by name.” “Zounds! Girl, do you hear that?” exclaimed Mr. Dalton, very much astonished, and turning to Editha. “But——” he began again, with a perplexed look. “But he is not master there now,” Earle interrupted, calmly. “Ah!” Mr. Dalton uttered, leaning forward with breathless interest, half expecting what was to follow. “_I_ am now the acknowledged Marquis of Wycliffe and Viscount Wayne,” Earle said. “Have you proved your claim? Was it not contested? How——” Mr. Dalton was very much excited, so much so that he trembled visibly, and leaned back, white and weak, in his chair.