There were long explanations on both sides. Wilfred learned with almost unutterable joy that his character was cleared. He heard with grief that he was fatherless and brotherless. He heard that he was the rightful owner of the old House and Home of Holmcastle, which now was in the hands of another. He learned that his sister was an inmate of the Palace close at hand. And Evelyn heard the story of Wilfred’s wanderings and adventures since they parted; his voyages on the wide ocean; his exploits in the fastnesses of India and upon the tented field. She heard from modest lips how he had resolved to redeem the past, and vindicate his good name; how he had won the proud distinction of the Victoria Cross; how with wonder he had heard Evelyn’s exclamation at his investiture by royal hands; how he had striven for, and still hoped to win, a commission in the army and regiment he had learned to love. When this was obtained, it had been his intention to return to his home and claim his birthright. Time sufficed not for all that their hearts and lips would fain have poured forth to each other, when the distant clock of the Palace warned the young soldier that he had to return to duty at the barracks. As he would, moreover, be forced to go on duty to Hounslow the day following, it was agreed that they should not meet again until the third evening. Meanwhile, Wilfred would not reveal his secret; but, nevertheless, Evelyn should be at liberty to communicate it to her friend the Duchess. Evelyn also promised to write by that evening’s post to Mr. Elthorne, to announce the happy news, and also to their old legal friend, Mr. Merivale, to ask his professional advice. So discussing their hopes and affairs, the brother and sister took their way, hand in hand, down one of the side avenues, and when they reached the great gate, they parted, after a loving embrace--Wilfred to return to the barracks by the high road, Evelyn to regain her apartments through the wilderness and garden. So abundantly happy and so absorbed in their happiness had the re-joined pair been during their walk under the elms and chestnuts, that they were utterly unconscious of all besides. Their hand-linked walk, however, and the fond kisses they exchanged when they parted at the gate of the Park, did not escape the notice of prying and malignant eyes. Lady M’Adam, returning with Miss Scheimes from their afternoon drive to Teddington, spied the couple from the recesses of the former lady’s brougham, and, with malicious joy, they drew their own base conclusions. On arriving at the Palace, they at once flew to Lady Lavinia’s rooms, and found that immaculate old widow (who had just time to hide a French novel under the sofa cushions) poring over a printed address of the saintly Moodle. “We’ve caught them at last in the very act!” screamed out Lady M’Adam, throwing herself into a chair. “Hugging each other in the royal Park!” shrieked Miss Scheimes.