He cared nothing for what his mother had said about her being a great heiress. He loved her for herself alone, and he was rich enough for both. He would rather have had her remain poor, so that he could have bestowed everything upon her himself. But, oh, the joy of knowing that she was safe under her mother's roof, safe where he could find her again--it made him dizzy with such a rapture of joy and relief that his face paled with emotion, and his eyes nearly closed, startling Lady Putnam so that she sprang to his side, exclaiming, in alarm: "You are indeed ill, my dear boy, and I must send for a physician. Please tell me in what way you are affected." "It is my heart, dear mother!" he groaned, then caught her around the waist, laughing: "Forgive me for alarming you, dearest mother. I am not in the least ill; only overcome with joy at hearing that my darling betrothed is found again." "Do you really mean it, Leland?" she inquired, dubiously. "Indeed I do mean it, and I can hardly wait for the time when I shall return to America to claim my bonny bride." She saw that a curious transformation had come over him. His cheeks were flushed, and his dark-blue eyes flashed with joy. She had never seen him look so radiantly happy. But a sigh heaved her breast as she replied to his words: "But I fear that I may never see her your bride, Leland, for her mother owns in the letter that the girl has formed an attachment for a poor young man she knew in New York when she was only a poor salesgirl at O'Neill's store. She clings stubbornly to this poor fireman, although she has been told all about her betrothal to you." "She repudiates my claim, eh?" he laughed, gayly. "It seems so," she answered. "Let me see the letter, please, mother." She gave it to him, and although it covered many pages, he read it with the deepest interest. And no wonder, for he found there the story of all that had happened to Geraldine since she had boarded the train for Chicago with Clifford Standish. Mrs. Fitzgerald had not failed to relate the discomfiture of the villain who had kidnaped her daughter. Oh, the gladness of his heart when he found how Geraldine had been saved from the villain's power and restored to her mother's arms. He knew that he could tell all his story to his mother now, for Geraldine was proved pure and faithful; but a moment's reflection decided him not to do so yet a while. He had a romantic fancy to prove Geraldine's love to the utmost, now that she had come into fortune and position. Not as the Lord of Raneleigh would he woo her, but as Harry Hawthorne, the fireman. Then he would know the true value of her heart. His first impulse was to return to America at once, his impatience to see her was so great; but he remembered that it would be almost impossible to do so now.