To Reginald's immense surprise and relief, Leon informed him that the marriage with Miss Fortescue was not a mock marriage at all. For once in his life he had been honest. The marriage had been a real one. It was only after the affair in the Dalton vaults that he had pretended that it was false. He did so in order to free himself from his real wife, and gain some control over the Dalton estate. The Rev. Mr. Porter was a bona fide clergyman, and the marriage had been conducted in a legal manner. He had found out that the Rev. Mr. Porter had gone to Scotland, and saw that he could easily deceive his wife. “But,” said Reginald, “what is the reason that your wife could never find him out? She looked over all the lists of clergymen, and wrote to all of the name of Porter. She could not find him.” “Naturally enough,” said Leon, indifferently. “She supposed that he belonged to the Church, because he used the Church service; but he was a Presbyterian.” “Where is he now?” “When last I heard about him he was at Falkirk.” “Then Miss Fortescue was regularly married, and is now your wife?” “She is my wife,” said Leon. At this Reginald was silent for some time. The joy that filled his heart at this discovery was so great that for a time it drove away those other thoughts, deep and dread, that had taken possession of him. But these thoughts soon returned. “One thing more,” said he, in an anxious voice. “Leon, where is my mother?” * * * * * CHAPTER LIV. THE SONS AND THEIR FATHER. “Where is my mother?” Such was Reginald's last question. He asked it as though Lady Dudleigh was only _his_ mother, and not the mother of Leon also. But the circumstances of his past life had made his father and his brother seem like strangers, and his mother seemed all his own. At this question Leon stared at him with a look of surprise that was evidently unfeigned. “Your mother?” he repeated. “I do not say _our_ mother,” said Reginald. “I say _my_ mother. Where is she?” “I swear I know nothing about her,” said Leon, earnestly. “I have never seen her.” “You have never seen her?” repeated Reginald, in a tremulous voice. “Never,” said Leon; “that is, not since she left this place ten years ago.” “You saw her at Dalton Hall!” cried Reginald. “At Dalton Hall? I did not,” said Leon. “Mrs. Dunbar, she called herself. You saw her often.” “Mrs. Dunbar! Good Heavens!” cried Leon, in unaffected surprise. “How was I to know that?” Reginald looked at him gloomily and menacingly. “Leon,” said he, in a stern voice, “if you dare to deceive me about this, I will show no mercy. You must tell _all_--yes, _all_.” “But I tell you I don't know any thing about her,” said Leon; “I swear I don't. I'll tell every thing that I know. No such person has ever been here.”