My lady's face was flushed with delight, as with starry eyes she looked up at me. "See," she whispered proudly, "this is how thy fellows would honor thee." "What does it mean, Governor?" I asked. "The 'Dart' touched here a few days ago, on its way to harry the Spanish towns upon the coast, and she brought for thee an open letter of pardon; 'tis under the hand of Elizabeth and sealed with the great seal. It seems that DeNortier himself had sent a letter to the Queen, a few months ago, before he sailed away, swearing upon his oath that the charge of the priest and the other men was false, and sworn to by the command of Lord Dunraven. This coincided with the tale of Oliver Gates, and so thy friends secured a pardon for thee; there is another bulky letter here, brought by the same vessel, which I have not opened." A great lump came into my throat and choked my speech, a mist dimmed my sight, and I could only shake the hand that White held out to me, and murmur a few words in answer to his hearty congratulations. This had been the favor that DeNortier tried to tell me of as he lay dying in those dark woods. I thought of how often I had abused him, and of the great hate I bore him; then too how he had stood like a bulwark between Margaret and Dunraven. There was something noble after all in a man who would do this for an enemy, and I wished I could shake his hand and thank him--but it was too late. I have never been able to solve the problem of why he wrote this letter to the Queen. Whether in a fit of remorse of conscience for all the evil he had done me, or to injure Dunraven who was his strongest rival, I know not; and the only lips which could solve this unexplained riddle lay cold, silenced forever, in that vast unknown land behind me. And so we boarded the vessel. My lady had gone to the great cabin which the Governor had given up to her, and I stood near the mast looking at the shore. White approached me, a long bulky package in his hand. "'Tis the Queen's pardon," he said. "And this is the other letter of which I spoke," and he placed them in my hand. Seating myself, I broke the seal and opened the letter. It was from Bobby--a long, rambling epistle, telling me of the disappearance of Lady Margaret and begging me to watch for her as he feared that Lord Dunraven, who he was sure had abducted her, would fly to this country. But it was the last part--I stared long, and read once, twice; it ran thus: "I have at last given up all hope of winning Lady Margaret, for I know that she loves thee, and so I am to be wedded in a few weeks to my lady's friend and sometime schoolmate, Lady Jane Porter. So if thou dost discover Margaret, I give thee my advice to capture her without more words. The Queen has pardoned thee. But there is another piece of good fortune which I would acquaint thee with.