The Bride of the Tomb and Queenie's Part 93

"Am I _de trop_?" asked Uncle Robert, putting his gray head and smiling face into the room at that moment.

"Never, Uncle Robert. You are one of us now, and always," said Captain Ernscliffe, bringing him in and giving him a cordial pressure of the hand.

Queenie looked up with the bright tears still shining in her eyes.

He kissed her fondly, then bent over the little babe to hide the dew of tenderness that dimmed his kindly blue orbs.

"I shall have to give up my little pet now," he said, a little sadly.

"No, you shall not, Uncle Robbie. You are to come home with us, and live with us always. You shall not live alone any longer," said Queenie, tenderly and gratefully.

Three years later, when Robbie was the loveliest and most mischievous little, dark-eyed lad that ever delighted a parent's heart, they all went abroad again.

Captain Ernscliffe, who was the fondest and most devoted husband in the world, had taken an absurd fancy that Queenie's roses were fading and that a European tour would improve her health.

So one bright, sunny morning in the month of roses, they found themselves registered as boarders at a famous health resort in Germany.

But after Captain Ernscliffe had smoked his cigar on the balcony, he came into his wife's airy room with a frown on his dark, handsome face.

"I shall have to take you away to-morrow, my dear," he said. "I have found out that your mother and sister are staying here. Of course it would be embarra.s.sing to all parties if we remained."

"Yes, we must go away," she said, but she sighed as she spoke.

It had been a bitter cross to her that her mother and sister would not recognize her.

She loved them still, for the ties of kinship were very strong in her heart.

Now her own motherhood had made her even more gentle and loving than before.

She would have loved dearly to be friends with those proud ones who had discarded her, and to have shown her beautiful little son to his grandmother.

"Yes, we will go away to-morrow," she repeated, brushing away a quick-starting tear. "We must not trouble their peace."

But that evening, when her husband and her uncle had gone out for a walk, and she was alone with Robbie, she heard a timid and hesitating rap at her door.

"Enter," she said, looking up in some surprise.

The door opened, and Lady Valentine came abruptly into the room.

She was paler and graver than of old, and her stately form was draped in the gloomy sables of a widow.

"Georgina!" exclaimed Mrs. Ernscliffe, starting up.

Lady Valentine rushed forward, and threw her arms about the trembling, hesitating figure.

"Little Queenie, my sweet, wronged sister!" she cried, "will you forgive my cruelty to you, and love your Georgie again?"

"I have never ceased to love you, Georgie," was the answer.

Lady Valentine pressed a dozen kisses on the sweet lips and wavy, golden hair.

Queenie put her gently into a chair, and then she saw a little, dark-eyed lad looking at her with a great deal of wonder.

"What a lovely boy!" she said, "and it is yours, Queenie, I know, for he looks so like your husband."

"Yes," answered Queenie, proudly; then she led her little son up to her sister.

"Robbie, you must kiss your aunt," she said.

Lady Valentine stayed a long while with Queenie, and many mutual, touching confidences were exchanged by the long-parted sisters. At last she rose to go.

"May I have Robbie a little while?" she asked.

"You may go with your aunt, my dear," said Queenie, kissing the child.

Lady Valentine took his hand and led him away to a room where a gray-haired lady was sitting alone in the fast-falling twilight with a grave, rather sad expression on her handsome old face. Georgie lifted up Robbie and placed him on the lady's knee.

"Grandmother," she said, half-laughing, half-crying, "kiss your grandson."

"It is Queenie's child!" cried Mrs. Lyle, pressing him to her heart, and kissing him, then crying over him in her womanly joy and excitement.

"We must take him to his mother now," said Georgie. "Come, mamma," and Mrs. Lyle followed her without a word.

So when Captain Ernscliffe and Mr. Lyle returned from their walk they found them all together, Queenie's fair face perfectly radiant and every one very happy in this touching reunion.

They were never parted afterwards. When Mr. Lyle and the Ernscliffes returned to the United States Mrs. Lyle and Lady Valentine went with them. Mrs. Lyle had conceived such an affection for her little grandson that she could not bear to be separated from him. Georgina had no ties to bind her to England, so she followed them also. Many years of calm happiness came to Mrs. Ernscliffe afterward, but she never forgot the terrible secret that had almost desolated her life.

She had one daughter, a sweet and lovely girl, who bore the name of one long dead, and sometimes when she kissed and caressed her, Captain Ernscliffe would hear her say, sweetly and gravely:

"Sydney, my darling daughter, you must never have any secrets from your papa and mamma!"

[THE END.]