“My dearest, how little faith you had in your lover, to believe all that little cat told you out of spite!” “Oh, papa, you do not understand. Indeed, he was her lover. Jessie spoke the truth. He--only--sought--to amuse himself with me. I--I--know that it is true, for--I--saw--her--in--his arms!” He could hardly bear the anguish in the great, dark eyes, the shame, the self-pity in the quivering voice: he must tell her the truth; he could not see her suffer any more, poor, proud Leola! So he answered, quickly: “You saw her spring to his arms, my dear; and if you had not fainted at the sight, you would have seen her the next moment repulsed with scorn by the man who despised the shallow little deceiver.” A wild cry of incredulous hope shrilled over her lips, and his words came like a star in the night of her despair. He continued, tenderly: “You were tricked and deceived, my poor Leola, by two designing women. Granted that Chester Olyphant had once been engaged to marry Jessie Stirling, he had found her out and broken with her before he came to the mountains to seek you. The girl lied to you, deceived you wickedly, scheming to separate you and win him back herself. You fainted, and then Fate stepped in and aided Miss Stirling to keep you deceived for a whole year, but that was all, for he continued to repulse all her efforts to get him back. His only fault toward you, darling, was his hiding his name and position, in the natural, romantic desire to be loved for himself alone!” CHAPTER XX. “ALL THE WORLD AND WE TWO, AND HEAVEN BE OUR STAY.” Alston Mead had never fully recognized before all the rare beauty of Leola, for until now it had been shadowed by her secret sorrow--the thorn that was always piercing her heart. When the girl looked up at him now her eyes were like stars, sudden roses had bloomed on her cheeks, and her lips were trembling with smiles of joy. “Oh, it is like some sweet dream!” she cried, half fearfully, her white hands clasped above her wildly throbbing heart. “It is no dream, my darling; it is a blissful reality,” her father cried. “Your lover has always been true and noble, and worthy of your deepest devotion. For months he has been seeking for you everywhere, and our fortunate rencontre this morning has filled his heart with joy.” “Oh, papa! you have then seen Ray--Chester, I mean!” she began, in wild agitation, but he interrupted her, smilingly: “Call him Ray if you choose, dear--his name is Raphael Chester Olyphant, you see. Yes, your true lover is in Paris to-day. He crossed with your friends to seek for you. He will be here by-and-by to see you, but I promised to tell you everything first, for he does not know whether you will forgive him for deceiving you under the guise of the poor artist.” She cried, radiantly: “I am glad of it now, for he knows I loved him for himself alone, and he can never doubt my devotion. Oh, I can scarcely realize my happiness! It seems like some beautiful dream.”