Roland smiled at the eagerness of the old man's manner, and, in half-sadness, said, “Poor Maritaña is now a fugitive--we know not where.” A sudden commotion at the door, and a tumult of voices, interrupted the scene, and Rica rushed in, crying in ecstasy, “She is found--my child is found!” The travellers of the diligence passing through the wood of Versailles had discovered the form of a sleeping girl at the foot of a tree, and carried her back with them to Paris. Enrique himself, being among them, recognized her at once, and soon succeeded in finding out Rica, into whose arms he restored her. While Rica hurriedly poured forth this explanation, old Corrigan stood tremulous with agitation, and at last, advancing towards him, said, “Leicester, I am no longer afraid to meet you. Fortune has, at last, favored me. I am rich now, and can make you rich also.” Rica started back: a sudden sickness came over him, and he fell powerless at the old man's feet. What a scene of heartfelt emotion followed, as Mary recognized her long-lost father; and the careworn, sorrow-struck man saw the warm affections of those whom, in a life long, he had injured. “The end of this will be,” said Lady Kilgoff, laughing through tears, “that I shall have to proceed on my journey alone. I foresee that we shall not share in all the general joy at these discoveries.” “I have a sister, too,” exclaimed Mary, with enthusiasm, “whom I am burning with impatience to see. Where is she? when are we to meet?” “She is below--she is in my carriage at the door,” said Rica. The ambassador heard the words and left the room, returning in a moment with Maritaña on his arm. Wearied and exhausted as she was, there was that in her native grace and beauty that caused a thrill of admiration as she entered. “Here is your sister, Maritaña,” said Rica, leading her to where Mary stood, gazing with wistful eyes at the Spanish beauty. Maritaña looked steadily at the fair loveliness before her, where timidity and gentleness seemed impressed; and then, as if yielding to some sudden impulse, she sprang forward, and, clasping her hand, covered it with kisses, exclaiming with rapture,-- “Non! non la sua hermana, ma la sua esclava!--Not her sister, but her slave.” Among the group who with admiring eyes gazed upon this little scene, there stood a dark, sombre-looking man, whose mean attire and travel-worn look could not conceal a certain dignity of air and manner. Cashel's quick glance soon discovered him, and in a moment they were locked in a fast embrace. “My old, true-hearted comrade!” cried Roland. “Yes, señora!” said Maritaña, as if answering the look of astonishment of Mary; “and for all that he seems now, he is a well-born caballero, and noble to boot.” “Everything looks worse and worse for my prospects of companionship,” said Lady Kilgoff, poutingly. “Mr. Corrigan--Mary--are you both bent on desertion?”