“Forgive you, my own? This moment compensates for everything. How were you to know that a titled relative had died, making me his heir, and changing or adding to my name? I was indeed Archibald Sherbrooke, bound for America, to travel and study art there, when we went on that steamer. I merely dropped the ‘Sir’ lest you should be shy of me. I did indeed know of the change in my circumstances when I next saw you in the station in New York, but in my fear of losing you, I resolved not to tell you until I had won you, feeling afraid that you, in your modesty, would refuse to Lord Carrol the love you would perhaps give to Archibald Sherbrooke. I never suspected, when I accepted Mrs. Richards’ invitation to visit her, that I was going into the very house where my own love dwelt. I had paid Miss Josephine some attention at Long Branch, but her mother was always included, and it was only in a friendly way, as I was drawn toward them from having discovered that they were of English descent, and connected with people here whom I knew. I intended, as I told you that night, to seek you the very next day; and when I had won the consent of your friends to an engagement with you, in the character of Archibald Sherbrooke, I was going to tell you of my real position in life. Now, dear, you know that I have never swerved from my allegiance to you. I have been as true as truth itself,” he concluded, smiling fondly down upon her. “I have been very foolish, Archie,” Star whispered, “but, oh! I am very, very happy now. I was so utterly wretched this morning. I have been so wretched all day that it required all my courage to come here to-night; but I forced myself to do so because I did not wish Uncle Jacob to mistrust anything.” “And I hear that my modest little Star has become a great heiress; she is no longer the quiet, retiring little maid whom I was so proud and happy to have won that day when we went to Coney Island,” Lord Carrol said, half regretfully. Star lifted her head from his breast and looked at him inquiringly, and he thought rather more searchingly than the occasion required. “I mean,” he explained, “that Mr. Meredith has told me that Mr. Rosevelt has adopted you as his heiress.” She drew a long breath, but merely returned, in an absent way: “Yes.” “Mr. Meredith told me more, too, my darling,” her lover resumed; “he was the one who lifted the burden of sadness, caused by your sentence of banishment, from my heart. I imagined, also, although his confidence did not extend quite so far as this, that he had been my unsuccessful rival, and that was why you confessed what you did to him regarding your affection for me.” “Did Mr. Meredith tell you that—” Star began, blushing crimson as she remembered what her confession had been.