“Then I looked upon the boy to whom I had given every opportunity for high and noble life, for wealth and luxury and power, and what did I see? I looked upon the child of my own blood, in whose greatness I had promised myself so much pride and joy, and what did I find? Alas! my evil deed had recoiled upon myself. I saw my boy, him to whom I had given all the world at the cost of my own soul, going down, down, down, a poor worthless stick! Had I kept him to myself and thrown him at an early age upon his own resources for a livelihood, he might have been different. But I can not complain. “Percy! Percy!” turning to the half-stupefied youth, with tears starting down her shrunken cheeks. “On that morning when you blessed me--when, after I had raised my hand against your life, and you knew it, you asked God to give me blessing, now and ever more--in that hour, Percy, I resolved that you should be restored to your rights; that, so far as I could effect it, you should, for the time to come, enjoy the rank and wealth that is lawfully your own. “I can not speak more. Yet--one word--Oh, my lord!--Lord Allerdale! look upon this boy--look into his face--and tell me what you see. Oh, how have you been so blind? He is his own father over again! Do you not see? Ah, your heart has told you! You have loved him, even when you thought him the smuggler’s child.” “Percy! Oh, I will always call you so! Can you doubt the truth of this?” So asked the old earl, holding the handsome youth by the shoulders and gazing eagerly, through bright tear-drops, into his face. “My lord,” Percy answered, trembling at every joint, “how can I doubt it? I do certainly believe it true.” “Doubt!--Believe!” cried Margery, springing to her feet with arm outstretched. “Look at that face--the face on those pillows! Oh, Heaven, have mercy! Is it not my own face made masculine, and hardened and brutalized? Your face, boy, is the face of your father. Had it been your mother’s, I do not think I should have endured you. Forgive me! I will say no more.” At this point the pirate chief, who had been thus far held in check by the surgeon, started to a sitting posture, with fury in his face and a literal flame in his sunken eyes. He raised his maimed right hand toward Margery, and his lips moved. He gasped, and flecks of foam started out, but he did not speak. Another effort resulted in a low gurgling howl, and he sank back on his pillows--dead. Margery stood for a time at the sofa side and gazed down upon the swart, dead face. By and by she turned toward the earl. “Lord Allerdale,” she said, with a steady, earnest look into his watchful eyes, “I will tell you how you can prove to me your undoubting faith in the story I have told you. Give to the men whom I shall send, this body, and allow me to bury it by the side of the grave wherein I laid the mortal remains of his father. Will you do it?”