Mrs. Dalrymple was watching her niece, too, and very suddenly she said: “While he was telling me this story, Cora, I remembered that on that same night a servant called you out of my room, saying a young lady wanted me, and that you must come down. You went, and when you returned, after a while, you said nothing of the visitor, and in my agitation I forgot it till just now. Cora, Cora, can it be possible”--she broke off short, for Cora fell at her feet in wildest agitation. “Oh, Aunt Verna, can you ever forgive me for what I have done? Indeed, I meant it for the best, but it has turned out to be a terrible mistake!” “Cora, Cora, what have you done?” “Forgive me, forgive me; I did wrong.” “Do not keep me in suspense, Cora. Answer me, was it my daughter that came that night?” “It was a girl that looked like the one you interred in the old family vault. She said: ‘I am Jessie Lyndon, the stolen daughter of Mrs. Dalrymple. I wish to see her if you please!’” “My God! And you sent her away?” groaned the agonized mother. “Yes, I sent her away, for how could I dream that she was speaking the truth?” “Cora, you should have brought her to me!” wildly. “I feared it would kill you in your weak state, for every one thought you were sinking into death. It seemed to me I was acting very prudently, and when she was gone I kept the secret, believing it was for the best.” Cora’s acting was superb. Her dark eyes were full of burning tears, and her whole behavior showed grief and regret. Mrs. Dalrymple was completely deceived. She almost pitied Cora. “Get up, dear girl, do not weep so bitterly. I will forgive you, for I know you did what you thought was for the best, though you made a sad and grievous mistake.” She turned her eyes on Carey Doyle as if she had momentarily forgotten his presence, and exclaimed: “Why, have you not seen the chauffeur who brought her here?” “I did not neglect that, madam, but he said she paid her fare and dismissed him, saying she should remain with her friends all night.” “Oh, heavens, what a mystery! Where did my Darling go, alone, penniless, friendless, that gloomy night?” sobbed the mother. Carey Doyle watched Cora with a lynx eye, but her perfectly acted remorse and grief baffled suspicion. He rose, and Mrs. Dalrymple said eagerly: “Keep up the search for my daughter and you shall be paid well for your work.” “I will do what I can, madam, and I hope you will hear from me again,” he replied respectfully; then with a malignant look at Cora, he withdrew from the room and was shown out by a servant. * * * * * Cora had a difficult rôle to play now, pretending the keenest regret for her cousin’s disappearance, while at heart she was wildly elated over it. But she was not finding much happiness in her position as bride elect, though she knew that half the girls in New York would envy her the honor of becoming the handsome young millionaire’s bride.