“I never thought of such a thing as you being the man I was seeking; had I even suspected it, I never should have had to serve those three years in that miserable prison; for, as I told you before, it was while searching for you that I became entangled in that robbery. You, it seems, knew, during the greater part of my imprisonment, of the relation I sustained toward you. It would seem as if common humanity would have prompted you to make some effort for my release, or, at least, for a mitigation of my sentence; but instead, you sought to deprive me of the only comfort I had, for I am convinced that it was you who intercepted all the flowers and kind messages which I should otherwise have received.” Earle fixed his stern glance upon Mr. Dalton as he said this, and knew by the guilty way his eyes fell that he was correct in his surmise. “I do not wonder at it, now that I know something of your nature, but it will only be an added thorn planted in your pillow of remorse, as will also be the injuries which you sought to do me after my release, and in the end you will be the worst sufferer. But in spite of your every effort I conquered. I was beginning to make for myself a name and reputation, when I read in a paper of the death of the Marquis of Wycliffe. He had been dead some time, for this notice was only an item gleaned from European news, and reported in connection with the fact that Mr. Tressalia, of Newport fame, had succeeded to his vast property. I knew then that I must attend to my claim at once, and I immediately left for Europe. I found Mr. Tressalia, as I expected, already established as the Marquis of Wycliffe; but, like the noble man that he is, when he found that I was the rightful heir he relinquished everything and kindly assisted me in establishing my identity. Then, feeling that the change in my prospects would be sufficient to make you waive all objections regarding me, I left my affairs in his hands, and returned for Editha——” Earle suddenly stopped appalled—he could not go on. All his dreams of happiness were at an end now; that hour had crushed his every hope—Editha Dalton was his half-sister, and he must never dare to think of her again as becoming his wife. But, God forgive him! he could never love her as a sister. His great heart swelled within him with agony at the thought; the veins upon his forehead filled out hard and full, while the perspiration gathered upon his face, and, rolling off, dropped upon the floor. Editha Dalton his half-sister! He could not realize it, and it was the bitterest blow his life had ever known. How could he live all the long years that were before him, with the sin of this undying love clinging to him? Now he knew something of what Paul Tressalia must have suffered from his unrequited affection. Paul Tressalia! The thought of him thrilled him with a sharper, fiercer pain. Perhaps in time, now that Editha was lost to him, he might succeed in winning her.