“Indeed!” exclaimed Stuart, rather mystified, for he did not as yet see the road to the royal alliance. “Now then,” continued The O’Melaghlin, “that marriage was the first step, as I said. Nearly two centuries passed before the second step was taken. But then, centuries don’t count for much with old historic families whose origin is only lost in the ancient, prehistoric ages. It was in the year 1380, in the reign of Robert the Second, King of Scotland, that Randolph of Arghalee married the Lady Grauch, daughter of the Earl of Fife, who was the second son of the reigning monarch. D’ye moind, that’s where the r’yal blood comes in, and our kinship, more betoken! So shake hands upon it, Wolfscliff.” Stuart good-humoredly put out his hand, already half crippled by O’Melaghlin’s first clasp, and received a second crushing grip. “And now will you kindly inform me how I can be of service to you?” inquired the host. “Thank you, sir, certainly. I wish to find my children, Michael and Judith. I was told by Mr. Walling that you would be able to give me their exact address, which he said was in London somewhere, but he could not tell where.” While The O’Melaghlin spoke Stuart stared and Palma laughed. She felt a child’s delight at his astonishment in discovering that The O’Melaghlin was the father of Michael Man and Judith Hay. “Oh!” said the visitor, “you are surprised, sure, to hear me say this, but they are my children, for all that I have never set eyes on them in my life. It was not my fault, but the fate made by circumstances, that kept us apart. It is a painful story, sir, that I may tell you later at your convenience. Now I wish to ask you where, in all the great wilderness of London, I may find my children.” “Nowhere in London. They are not there. They have changed their plans, and will remain for some time to come at Haymore Hall.” “Surely I thought they were going to London for private tuition.” “They can obtain that better, perhaps, at Haymore.” “Ay?” “Perhaps, O’Melaghlin, you would like to see your daughter’s last letter to my wife,” kindly suggested Stuart. “Ay, that I would, if Mrs. Stuart has no objections, and it is very kind of you to offer to show it to me, and I thank you, Wolfscliff,” heartily responded the visitor. And before he had finished speaking Palma had darted away in search of her letter box. She soon returned with it, sat down, placed it on her lap, opened it and took out a bundle of letters, from which she selected one to hand it to the visitor. He quickly snatched it, and with an almost greedy look, so eager was the father to read the words of his unknown daughter. He “devoured” the contents of that letter, though none of its words could speak of him, who was equally unknown to his daughter, and although they only told of household and neighborhood news, and of their changed plans in regard to the scene of their studies and the person of their tutor.