“Yes. Andros will do as he says, and bring Alcibiades here with his band of scoundrels. Well,” added the Demarch, with a grim smile, “they will get a rather warm reception when they do come. The Roylands are a fighting family.” “Ah, now I understand how you made that allusion before,” said Maurice quickly; “and now I come to think of it, what with the many hints you dropped, I must have been blind not to guess the truth.” “When a man has been numbered with the dead forty years, it is hard to believe that he is alive,” said the Demarch philosophically. “You must have had a strange life, uncle.” “Very,” replied Justinian, gratified by the title. “To-night, when Helena has retired to bed, I will tell you all my adventures since leaving the Grange.” “Does Helena know I am her cousin?” “She knows nothing beyond the fact that I am Demarch of Melnos. No, my son, you have wooed and won your bride entirely on your merits, so now you can understand how delighted I am at the prospect of this marriage, which will blend both the elder and younger branch of the family in one common line.” “Can I tell Helena?” “Certainly, whenever you please.” “Here is Helena now,” said Crispin, as the girl, looking rather pale, entered the court. “Come here, sister Helena; Maurice has something to tell you.” “About Caliphronas?” asked Helena, coming up close to her father. “No, my dear,” said her father, kissing her fondly. “Caliphronas has received the reward of his treachery, and has left Melnos forever.” “I am glad of that, father,” said the girl, with a sigh of relief. “You can have no idea how I disliked him. But has he been treacherous?” “Very; he wanted to give up Melnos to Alcibiades.” “Did he dare?” “Yes; and was only deterred from doing so by being promised both yourself and the island.” “But, father,” cried Helena in great distress, “you did not want me to marry Caliphronas?” “Never! I wished you to marry Maurice.” “Well, your wishes are going to be fulfilled,” said Helena, with a lovely smile, turning to her lover. “Helena,” remarked Maurice, with mock solemnity, taking her hands, “look at me carefully.” “I am doing so with both eyes.” “Do you know who I am?” “Of course—Maurice Roylands.” “And what else?” “My—my future husband,” said the girl, with an amused smile. “Still, I am something even more.” “I don’t understand,” began Helena in bewilderment, when Justinian interposed. “Do not tease the child so, Maurice. Helena, this is your future husband and your first cousin.” “My cousin!” “By all the laws of the Medes and Persians,” said Maurice, kissing her. “Your father is my long-lost uncle Rudolph, of whom I have spoken, and you, my sweet bride to be, are my dear coz Helena.” CHAPTER XXIX. A ROLLING STONE.