Wife in Name Only Part 51

"My Dear Lord Arleigh: Something too wonderful for me to set down in words has happened. I am at the Dower House, Winiston. Come at once, and lose no time.

Mountdean."

"At the Dower House?" mused Lord Arleigh. "What can it mean?"

"Did the Earl of Mountdean send this himself?" he said to the man.

"Yes, my lord. He bade me ride as though for life, and ask your lordship to hurry in the same way."

"Is he hurt? Has there been any accident?"

"I have heard of no accident, my lord; but, when the earl came to give me the note, he looked wild and unsettled."

Lord Arleigh gave orders that his fleetest horse should be saddled at once, and then he rode away.

He was so absorbed in thought that more than once he had a narrow escape, almost striking his head against the overhanging boughs of the trees. What could it possibly mean? Lord Mountdean at the Dower House!

He fancied some accident must have happened to him.

He had never been to the Dower House since the night when he took his young wife thither, and as he rode along his thoughts recurred to that terrible evening. Would he see her now, he wondered, and would she, in her shy, pretty way, advance to meet him? It could not surely be that she was ill, and that the earl, having heard of it, had sent for him.

No, that could not be--for the note said that something wonderful had occurred.

Speculation was evidently useless--the only thing to be done was to hasten as quickly as he could, and learn for himself what it all meant.

He rode perhaps faster than he had ever ridden in his life before. When he reached the Dower House the horse was bathed in foam. He thought to himself, as he rang the bell at the outer gate, how strange it was that he--the husband--should be standing there ringing for admittance.

A servant opened the gate, and Lord Arleigh asked if the Earl of Mountdean was within, and was told that he was.

"There is nothing the matter, I hope," said Lord Arleigh--"nothing wrong?"

The servant replied that something strange had happened, but he could not tell what it was. He did not think there was anything seriously wrong. And then Lord Arleigh entered the house where the years of his young wife's life had drifted away so sadly.

Chapter x.x.xIX.

Lord Arleigh was shown into the dining-room at Winiston House, and stood there impatiently awaiting the Earl of Mountdean. He came in at last, but the master of Beechgrove barely recognized him, he was so completely changed. Years seemed to have fallen from him. His face was radiant with a great glad light. He held out his hand to his friend.

"Congratulate me," he said; "I am one of the happiest men in the world."

"What has happened?" asked Lord Arleigh, in surprise.

"Follow me," said the earl; and in silence Lord Arleigh obeyed him.

They came to the pretty shaded room, and the earl, entering first, said:

"Now, my darling, the hour has come which will repay you for the sorrow of years."

Wondering at such words, Lord Arleigh followed his friend. There lay his beautiful wife, lovelier than ever, with the sunlight touching her hair with gold, her fair face transparent as the inner leaf of a rose--Madaline, his darling, who had been his wife in name only.

What did it mean? Why had the earl led him thither? Was it wanton cruelty or kindness? His first impulse was to fall on his knees by the little couch and kiss his wife's hands, his second to ask why he had been led thither to be tortured so. Madaline rose with a glad cry at his entrance, but Lord Mountdean laid a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Lord Arleigh," said the earl, "tell me who this is."

"My wife, Lady Arleigh," he replied.

She bent forward with clasped hands.

"Oh, listen. Norman," she said, "listen."

"You looked upon her as the only woman you ever could love; you made her your wife; yet, believing her to be the daughter of a felon, you separated from her, preferring a life-time of misery to the dishonor of your name. Is it not so, Lord Arleigh?"

"Yes," he replied, "it is indeed so."

"Then now learn the truth. This lady, your wife, is not the daughter of a convict. In her--how happy the telling of it makes me--behold my daughter, the child whom for seventeen years I have sought incessantly--my heiress, Lady Madaline Charlewood, the descendant of a race as honored, as ancient, and as n.o.ble as your own!"

Lord Arleigh listened like one in a dream. It could not be possible, it could not be true, his senses must be playing him false--he must be going mad. His wife--his deserted wife--the earl's long-lost daughter!

It was surely a cruel fable.

His dark, handsome face grew pale, his hands trembled, his lips quivered like a woman's. He was about to speak, when Madaline sprang forward and clasped her arms around his neck.

"Oh, my darling," she cried, "it is true--quite true! You need not be afraid to kiss me and to love me now--you need not be afraid to call me your wife--you need not be ashamed of me any longer. Oh, my darling, believe me, I am not a thief's daughter. My father is here--an honorable man, you see, not a convict. Norman, you may love me now; you need not be ashamed of me. Oh, my love, my love, I was dying, but this will make me well!"

Her golden head drooped on to his breast, the clinging arms tightened their hold of him. The earl advanced to them.

"It is all true, Arleigh," he said. "You look bewildered, but you need not hesitate to believe it. Later on I will tell you the story myself, and we will satisfy all doubts. Now be kind to her; she has suffered enough. Remember, I do not blame you, nor does she. Believing what you did, you acted for the best. We can only thank Heaven that the mystery is solved; and you can take a fair and n.o.ble maiden, who will bring honor to your race, to your home."

"My love," said Madaline, "it seems to me a happy dream." When Lord Arleigh looked around again the earl had vanished and he was alone with his fair young wife.

Half an hour afterward Lord Arleigh and his wife stood together under the great cedar on the lawn. They had left the pretty drawing-room, with its cool shade and rich fragrance, and Lord Arleigh stood holding his wife's hand in his.

"You can really forgive me, Madaline?" he said. "You owe me no ill-will for all that I have made you suffer?"

She smiled as she looked at him.

"No," she replied. "How could there be ill-will between you and me? You did right--in your place I should have acted as you did."

He caressed the fair, sweet face.

"Thank you, my darling," he said. "How thin you are!" he added. "How you have worn yourself away with fretting! What must I do to bring the roses back to this sweet face, and the light that I remember so well to the dear eyes?"

She looked up at him, her whole soul in her eyes.

"You have but one thing to do, and that is--love me," she said; "and then I shall be the happiest wife in all the world. If a choice were offered me of all the good gifts of this world, mine would be my husband's love."