"I admit madam's wonderful beauty, her grace and her talent," he said, slowly, "and I will not deny her astonishing resemblance to your lost bride; but, Ernscliffe, I will not believe this trumped-up story of poor Queenie's resurrection. You are the victim of a monstrous fraud!" Captain Ernscliffe's eyes blazed with anger. "You deny that this is my wife?" he exclaimed, passionately. Lord Valentine was silent a moment. After that brief pause for thought he answered, firmly: "Yes, I utterly deny it. I will not believe in so stupendous a fraud as this one which is being perpetrated upon you. Madame De Lisle is a beautiful woman, and a great actress; but she is not the wife you buried years ago in Rose Hill Cemetery." Queenie lifted her head and looked at him proudly, but she did not speak one word in her own defense. She did not need to do so. She had an eloquent defender by her side. "Since you think thus," said Captain Ernscliffe, repressing his anger and excitement by a powerful effort of his will, "pray go to your wife and break the news of Sydney's tragic death to her and her mother. You may tell them also all that I have told you, and we will see if they will decide as you have done." Lord Valentine bowed coldly and went away. Captain Ernscliffe turned to the beautiful woman, who had fallen into a seat and buried her face in her jeweled hands. "Queenie," he murmured. She looked up at his inquiringly. "Can you bear to hear the circumstances of your poor sister's death?" he asked, gently. She bowed without speaking. For answer he put into her hand Sydney's dying deposition, which Lord Valentine had returned to him. She read it silently through. It dropped from her nerveless clasp, and she looked at him with a bitter pain in her white face. "Oh, God, my poor, unhappy sister!" she moaned. "I have been the cause of her death." "Say rather her own reckless passion was her doom," he answered, solemnly. "Do not accuse yourself, Queenie. _She_ did not blame you. She was very sorrowful and repentant at the last. She wanted your forgiveness." "Oh, my poor Sydney! She went mad for love," said Queenie, weeping. "As I had almost done," he answered. "For, Queenie, I have been nearly beside myself these last few weeks. I knew you in spite of all your denials, and the bitterness of it all nearly broke my heart. But now I shall have my own again. Sydney wished it, dearest," he added, seeing a look of hesitancy on her face. She did not answer, and her blue eyes drooped away from his fond glance. He moved nearer and took her unresisting hand in his. "Darling, forgive me for pressing it now in your grief and trouble, but tell me, shall it be as Sydney wished? Will you come back to my heart?" "Perhaps you will not want me when I have told you all I have to tell," she answered, her sweet face crimson with painful blushes. "There is nothing left for you to tell, my darling. Sydney has told me all," he answered, quickly.