"I have a letter from America, dear Leland, and as you are so fond of everything American, perhaps you can remember the beautiful little American girl to whom you were betrothed when she was only about two years old?" CHAPTER XLVI. "I WILL TEST MY DARLING'S LOVE." "I have heard or dreamt, it may be-- What love is when true; How to test it--how to try it-- It the gift of few. Only a true heart can find it True as it is true; Only eyes as clear and tender Look it through and through." The handsome young lord looked at his mother in surprise when she uttered those words: "Perhaps you remember the beautiful little American girl to whom you were betrothed when she was barely two years old?" That episode of his childish days had almost escaped the young man's memory, so he said, carelessly: "Indeed, I have almost forgotten it, dear mother." "Then I must refresh your memory, Leland, for you are old enough now to redeem your pledge." Lord Putnam looked startled, and said, hastily: "Of course, you would not consider a trifle like that binding on a grown man." The stately mother looked somewhat disappointed, and answered, slowly: "I had hoped it might be, especially as you have no other entanglement." "Why are you so sure of that, my dear mother?" She started, and gave him a frightened look. "Oh, I--I--hope there is none," she said, vaguely. For a moment it came to him to tell her this love story. "A mother's sympathy would be very sweet," he thought. But a sudden impulse of pride restrained him. "For what if it be proved that Geraldine is unworthy? How could I bear to be pitied?" he thought, with the sensitive pride of true manhood. So he answered, evasively: "I was only teasing you, dear mother. Go on with the story you have to tell me." With a quick sigh of relief, she plunged into the subject: "As I was saying, when you were a manly little lad of seven, a cousin of mine, from New York, paid me a long visit here, and she had with her a lovely little daughter of two years. You and the little girl were almost inseparable, so much so that my cousin Florence and myself began to look forward to a possible future that might unite your destinies in one. In brief, we solemnly betrothed you to each other." "I begin to remember it all now, only the little one's name, which escapes my memory," smiled the young man, as a vision of a tiny golden-haired beauty returned to his mind from the past. "But you were parted soon after that," continued Lady Putnam. "My cousin returned to her American home, and suffered a series of misfortunes. Her husband proved unfaithful, and a divorce followed. She married within two years a splendid gentleman--a Western millionaire--but the happiness of her second union was destroyed by a terrible trial. Her first husband stole away her lovely daughter, little Geraldine, and all these years the most rigid search has failed to find her, so that----"