“Once upon a time,” began Lord Stuart, “a beautiful young heiress in San Francisco ran away with a handsome book-agent and married him. He took her to his home in California, a lonely mountain retreat frequented by cut-throats and desperadoes of the worst class, and she very soon discovered that she had linked her fate with that of a handsome villain whose trade was stealing horses. She upbraided him, and he struck her, arousing the worst passions of her vindictive nature. She sought out the Vigilantes, an organization then existing in California--it was more than twenty-five years ago, my friends--and they swung Robert Lacy up to a tree without giving him time to utter a prayer. I was in at the death, as they called it, and when they all slunk away from the scene of the murder--the heartless wife among the rest--I cut the man down and had the happiness of restoring him to life. He swore eternal gratitude, and I brought him away with me. For years he was my faithful, devoted valet; but he swore to me many a time that he carried a knife for his false wife’s heart, and that he would murder her on sight. But I did not think it was likely that he would ever meet her, for I supposed she had returned to her rich father and resumed her maiden name of Acton.” “I will hear no more!” Camille shrieked, hysterically; but Finette put her hand rudely over her lips. “You shall hear it all!” she said, resolutely. “There is little more to tell,” said Lord Stuart. “Robert Lacy did find his wife again, and in the struggle that ensued between them, she murdered him and flung his body into the river that skirts the lawn at Verelands.” “It is false!” Camille groaned, hoarsely; but he paid no attention to her denials--he went on with his story: “I was a witness to Camille Lacy’s terrible crime, for I had sent Robert to carry her some flowers, and I hung about the grounds like a foolish, romantic lover, so I saw it all; and because I had, in my madness, loved that woman, not knowing her wicked nature, I stole silently away from the scene, and did not betray her sin, leaving vengeance to Heaven.” CHAPTER LXXIII. Lord Stuart went up to Norman de Vere, and said gravely: “Do you understand what I have been saying?” “I have heard every word,” Norman answered; but he had a dazed look, as if his joy was too sudden and too great for comprehension. Lord Stuart gravely said: “When you married the woman who called herself Miss Acton, she had a husband already living, so her marriage to you was void in law, and your marriage with my niece was, therefore, lawful. Sweetheart is your wife still, and your boy has no stain on his name to prevent him from inheriting honors from an ancestry that was noble on both sides.” “My God, it is true; I thank Thee!” Norman cried, fervently.