" he
interrogated.

"No secret of yours could interest me," rejoined Lord Arleigh abruptly,
as he went away.

So, for the second time in his life, he was at the door of the mystery,
yet it remained unopened. The first time was when he was listening to
Lord Mountdean's story, when the mention of the name Dornham should lead
to a denouement; the second was now, when, if he had listened to the
convict, he would have heard that Madaline was not his child.

He left Chatham sick at heart. There was no help for him--his fate was
sealed. Never, while he lived, could he make his beautiful wife his own
truly--they were indeed parted for evermore. There remained to him to
write that letter; should he consent to Madaline's mother living with
her or should he not?

He reflected long and anxiously, and then having well weighed the matter
he decided that he would not refuse his wife her request. He must run
the risk, but he would not caution her.

He wrote to Madaline, and told her that he would be pleased if she were
pleased, and that he hoped she would be happy with her mother, adding
the caution that he trusted she would impress upon her mother the need
of great reticence, and that she must not mention the unfortunate
circumstances of the family to any creature living.

Madaline's answer touched him. She assured him that there was no
fear--that her mother was to be implicitly trusted. She told him also
how entirely she had kept the secret of his separation from her, lest it
should add to her mother's trouble.

"She will know now that I do not live with you, that I never see you,
that we are as strangers, but she will never know the reason."

He was deeply moved. What a noble girl she was, bearing her troubles so
patiently, and confiding them to no human soul!

Then he was compelled to go to Beechgrove--it was long since he had been
there, and so much required attention, he was obliged to go, sorely
against his will, for he dreaded the sight of the place, haunted as it
was by the remembrance of the love and sorrow of his young wife. He
avoided going as long as possible, but the place needed the attention of
a master.

It was June when he went--bright, smiling, perfumed, sunny June--and
Beechgrove was at its best; the trees were in full foliage, the green
woods resounded with the song of birds, the gardens were filled with
flowers, the whole estate was blooming and fair. He took up his abode
there. It was soon noticed in