"No, Bernard, no. You loved me, and in the face of everything I should never have credited you with the commission of this crime. But you forgive me, don't you, dear?" she added, nestling to his heart. "Of course I do," replied Gore, and sealed his forgiveness with a kiss. "So long as you believe me to be innocent now." "I do--I do. I wonder that I could have doubted you. Lord Conniston never doubted you, nor did Mr. Durham, nor my aunt. It was only I who--oh dear me! How wicked of me." "Alice"--he kissed away her tears--"say no more. The circumstances were enough to shake your faith in me, especially when you knew I had such a bad temper. And I have it still," sighed Gore, sadly; "even now in spite of all my trouble I am impatient." "Wait, wait! All will be well." "I can't see how I am to win free of the trouble, Alice dear." "None of us can see, Bernard. But we are in God's hands. He will help us. See, He has given you a refuge here till your innocence is proved." "And how long will I keep this refuge?" said Gore, gloomily. "If that young imp Judas learns from Victoria that I am here----" "Then you can escape to another place. But, Bernard, I have something to tell you." Alice looked round and took a letter out of her pocket cautiously. "This is from Julius. He says that he saw you in London." "Ah!" Bernard read the letter hurriedly. "My double--my half-brother, Michael." "Your half-brother! I never knew you had one." "Nor did I, till Durham found it out from Mrs. Gilroy." The next ten minutes was taken up by Bernard in explaining what the lawyer had learned from Mrs. Gilroy. Alice was extremely astonished and interested, and quite agreed that it was possible the half-brother might be the guilty person. "And it explains Mrs. Gilroy's accusation of you," said Alice, thoughtfully. "Without doubt. Mrs. Gilroy never liked me. But do you believe Michael is the real heir?" "No," said Alice, firmly. "Mrs. Gilroy would have claimed the money and the title for her son had there been a true marriage. There is something wrong, Bernard. I don't know what it is, but I feel sure that Mrs. Gilroy is not so secure about her position as she pretends to be." "Well," said Bernard, putting the letter into his pocket, "Durham will tell us what she says." Then occurred one of those coincidences which occur in real life quite as often as they do in novels. Durham suddenly entered the room, looking disturbed. He saluted Alice, then turned to his client--"Mrs. Gilroy!" he exclaimed. "What of her?" asked Gore. "Has she confessed?" "She has left the Hall, and no one knows where she is!" CHAPTER XV THE PAST OF ALICE The lovers stared at Durham when he made this startling announcement, for startling it was, considering how necessary Mrs. Gilroy's evidence was to procure the freedom of Gore. He sat down wiping his face--for he had ridden over post-haste--and looked excessively chagrined.