“I had not dreamed of meeting him there, or anywhere else on earth,” said Jennie; “but when I saw him before me, so unexpectedly, I was calmer than he was. I bade him leave me and avoid me, and told him that I should not trouble him while we were, unfortunately, on the ship together, but that I should tell you my whole story and take your advice as to my future course.” “You did wisely so far,” said the curate. “Then I told him you were to meet me at Liverpool.” “Well?” “He had taken tickets for Liverpool, but he got off, with his party, at Queenstown.” “Ah!” breathed the curate, “that was prudently done. But now, my child, tell me the alias under which this man is now traveling, and which you said would surprise us very much?” “Dear papa, first of all, will you please to tell me how much you learned of Kightly Montgomery’s true history when you undertook to investigate the antecedents of the young officer who had run off with your daughter?” “Yes, my dear. There was no mystery about him. I went to the colonel of his regiment, and learned that he was the son of the late General the Honorable Arthur Montgomery, who was so distinguished in the Indian war, the grandson of the late and the nephew of the present Earl of Engelmeed, and a disgrace to his ancestry and relatives; and that he had held a commission in the—Regiment of Foot, but had been court-martialed and dismissed the service for ‘conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman.’” “And you are sure that he is really Kightly Montgomery—that that is his real name?” “As sure as that James Campbell is my own,” said the curate. “And now, will you tell me what name he passed under in America, and why he dropped his own?” “Yes, papa; the name under which he passed in New York; the name under which he claims the richest estate in Yorkshire; the name under which he married Miss Lamia Leegh, of New York; the name under which he sailed in the _Scorpio_ for Liverpool, is——” “Yes? Well?” “Mr. Randolph Hay, of Haymore!” “Great Heaven, Jennie!” “Good Lord, Jennie!” These exclamations burst simultaneously from the lips of Jimmy and Hetty. “Yes, mamma! Yes, papa! It is true as truth. Your landlord and patron, the new Squire of Haymore, for whose home-coming with his bride all these gorgeous preparations have been made, is no other than my husband, your son-in-law, ex-captain of Foot, Kightly Montgomery, who metaphorically fled from before your face by landing at Queenstown, to avoid meeting you at Liverpool.” “Oh, Hetty! Hetty!” said the curate, appealing to his wife, “what is this world coming to?” “To judgment one of these days, Jimmy, according to your own preaching! ‘Reck your own read,’ Jimmy. And take comfort, as I do, that whatever has been, or is, or is to be, we have our darling daughter and her babe safe at home!” paid Hetty, closing her arm around Jennie’s waist and squeezing her fondly.