“It seems incredible!” exclaimed the old man, as he returned the empty goblet to his friend. “I knew you would be agitated by such news, and I tried to prepare you for it,” said the doctor. “It fills me with joy, and joy does not hurt any one. It moves me with gratitude, and that blesses every one. Thank Heaven! Oh, thank Heaven! But where is this lady now? If she should be within five hundred miles of me, I will seek her within a week,” said Commodore Bruce, more firmly and calmly than he had yet spoken. “She is much nearer than that. She is quite within your reach,” calmly replied Dr. Willet. “Where? Where? Speak, friend! There is no need of farther preparation. If you were to tell me she was in the next room, it could not startle me _now_!” exclaimed the commodore, unconsciously touching the very truth. Still the doctor deemed it best to be cautious. “Have you never suspected her possible identity with that of the recluse Lady of Edengarden?” significantly inquired the doctor. “Never! What? The Lady of Edengarden? You don’t mean to tell me——” The old man paused and gazed with amazement on the doctor. “Yes, I do. I mean to tell you that Emolyn Wyndeworth and the Lady of Edengarden are one and the same,” the latter assured him. The commodore dropped his head upon his chest and stroked his full gray beard. “Is she living there at present?” he at length inquired. “Yes; though usually she does not live there in the winter.” “Then I will go to see her before twenty-four hours are over my head.” “There will be no need. Emolyn Wyndeworth has come to see you!” “EH!” “Emolyn Wyndeworth has come to see Commodore Bruce, her father’s old friend. She only waits your pleasure to receive her.” “Where? Where? Where does she wait?” “In the little green study at the end of the hall,” replied the doctor composedly. The veteran of seventy-six sprang up with the agility of a youth of sixteen and dashed out of the library, exclaiming: “Emolyn Wyndeworth here! In this house! Oh, how I thank Heaven to have lived for this happiness!” CHAPTER XXX THE MEETING A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep And I could laugh—I’m light and heavy! Welcome! A blight begin at the very root of his heart Who is not glad to see thee! Welcome! SHAKESPEARE. “Emolyn Wyndeworth! Emolyn, my child, can it be possible that I find you again after all these years?” exclaimed Commodore Bruce, seizing the hands of the lady as she arose and offered them on his entrance into the little study. “You _are_ glad to see me, then?” she murmured in low and tremulous tones. “‘Glad?’ Oh, my Lord!” aspirated the old man with all his soul. “Let me sit down,” she breathed in almost inaudible tones, as she sank back trembling into her seat.