“It was a secret,” said Stuart; “but I have the whole history in a letter which he confided to my care. Now comes the strange part of the story. This daughter was thought to be in Australia, was even traced to that part of the world, when suddenly, as I am about to start to find her, by one of those extraordinary turns of fate, I come face to face with the cousin I seek--here--in your house!” Lord Court stood still and looked at Stuart earnestly. “In my house!” he echoed, slowly, as if doubting his ears. “Who is it?” “Your wife.” “My wife? Margery? You are jesting!” “Jesting!” repeated Stuart, grimly. “I was never so serious in all my life! Sir Douglas Gerant’s lost daughter bore the name of Margery Daw. She was placed in a home in Hurstley--my native village. Evidence was forthcoming that she had gone to Australia with Reuben Morris, the husband of the woman she had called mother. I knew her well; and last night, when I came face to face with her, I was overwhelmed by the discovery that Margery Daw and the Countess of Court were one and the same person.” Lord Court passed his hand across his brow. “I cannot think clearly yet,” he said, slowly; “the news is rather sudden.” He paused for a little. “There is no mistake--you are sure?” “I am sure,” answered Stuart, emphatically. The earl was silent for a minute, then his face cleared and brightened. He put out his hand to Stuart, who grasped it silently. “I can think and speak now. My darling has found her rights, and she is your cousin. The feeling of friendship for you which came so strongly to me, Crosbie, has now a solid basis beneath it. How happy she will be! And yet it is sad, at one and the same moment, almost, to find a father and to lose him. Fate must have led her to his bedside on that day. Thank Heaven, he saw her once before he died! Come--let us go in and tell her. Words seem so feeble to-day that I cannot express half of what I feel. The mystery of her birth has hung over my darling like a dark cloud; and now, by Heaven’s mercy, it is gone, and she will be free and happy.” They turned and walked in silence along the hall. Pauline was tripping down the stairs. “Miladi is in the south room--she would attend the _déjeuner_,” the girl said; and the earl walked quickly down a long corridor to a door hung with heavy curtains. “We will tell her now,” he whispered; and in another moment they were in the room. Stuart’s vision was obscured for the first few seconds, then it cleared, and he saw a slender, graceful girl, with fair, pale cheeks and a wreath of red-gold curls, before him. She had her hand clasped in the earl’s; and, as his senses returned, Stuart saw her deep-blue eyes grow dark with surprise, and her face become whiter than the folds of the heavy serge gown that draped her. In a soft, low voice, tender and passionate, the earl told her all; and Margery stood beside him, hearing nothing save the words: