“In the spring of 185— we came back to New York, where no one had ever heard of the affair, so quietly had it been managed. I was still an unmarried man to the world, as no one but my mother knew my secret. With her I often talked of Genevra, wishing sometimes that I could hear from her, a wish which was finally gratified. One day I received a note requesting an interview at a down town hotel, the writer signing himself as Thomas Lambert, and adding that I need have no fears, as he came to perform an act of justice, not of retribution. Three hours later I was locked in a room with Genevra’s father, the same man whom I had seen in Rome. Detected in forgery years before, he had fled from England and had hidden himself in Rome, where he accidentally met his daughter, and so that stain was removed. He had heard of the divorce by a letter which Genevra managed to send him, and braving all difficulties and dangers he had come back to England and found his child, hearing from her the story of her wrongs, and as well as he was able setting himself to discover the author of the calumny. He was not long in tracing it to _Le Roy_, Genevra’s former suitor, whom he found in a dying condition, and who with his last breath confessed the falsehood which was imposed upon me, he said, partly from motives of revenge, and partly, with a hope that free from me, Genevra would at the last turn to him. As proof that Mr. Lambert told me truth, he brought the dying man’s confession, written in a cramped, trembling hand, which I recognized at once. The confession ended with the solemn assertion, ‘For aught I know or believe, Genevra Lambert is as pure and true as any woman living.’ “I cannot describe the effect this had upon me. I did not love Genevra then. I had out-lived that affection, but I felt remorse and pity for having wronged her, and asked how I could make amends. “‘You cannot,’ the old man said, ‘except in one way, and that she does not desire. I did not come here with any wish for you to take her for your wife again. It was an unequal match which never should have been; but if you believe her innocent, she will be satisfied. She wanted you to know it—I wanted you to know it, and so I crossed the sea to find you.’” “The next I heard of her was in the columns of an English newspaper, which told me she was dead, while in another place a pencil mark was lightly traced around a paragraph, which said that ‘a forger, Thomas Lambert, who escaped years ago and was supposed to be dead, had recently reappeared in England, where he was recognized, but not arrested, for the illness which proved fatal. He was attended,’ the paper said, ‘by his daughter, a beautiful young girl, whose modest mien and gentle manner had done much towards keeping the officers of justice from her dying father, no one being able to withstand her pleadings that her father might die in peace.’