When he arose from his knees his face had lost all its old languid self-possession; there was a graver, more earnest light in his eyes, and as his lips pressed the hand of the dead girl they muttered a farewell vow, which was never to be forgotten from that hour till his last.

Lady Constance, bravely overcoming her own pain and horror at the double tragedy--for Jasper's body had been recovered and brought back to the house an hour after the death of Jessica--had retired with poor, remorseful Ada to her own rooms, where she did her best to soothe and comfort the unhappy woman. Overwhelmed with remorse at her previous neglect of the girl, Ada blamed herself bitterly for not watching her enemy more closely, and thus protecting all concerned from danger.

Meanwhile, the last painful duty had to be done. In the Blue Room were seated in expectant silence Lord Barminster, Mortimer Shelton, and Mr.

Harker. On the table lay the papers which Mr. Harker had brought with him, amongst them the all-important roll which Jessica had rescued from the streets. The three men were waiting now for Adrien, with patient respect, knowing the cause of his absence.

Presently the door opened, and the young man entered. Lord Barminster held out his hand without a word, and his son, as silently, grasped it; then, with a sigh, he seated himself at the table, prepared to learn to what extent he had been robbed by the man he trusted so fully.

Without comment, Shelton pa.s.sed him paper after paper, all drawn up in the clear writing of Mr. Harker; Adrien, with deep humiliation, examining them all. With another sigh he dropped the last one upon the table and looked up.

"It is like some hideous dream," he said in a low, shocked voice.

"Jasper Vermont, then, was not a traitor to me, but a forger and thief.

I can scarcely believe it--though, of course, it is impossible to get away from these proofs. He must have even bribed that jockey to lose the race, as the man hinted. That he could so have used my trust and confidence to gain money, and by crime, when he could have had it for the asking, seems past belief."

His father looked pityingly at him; he knew only too well what a blow this was to the young man.

"I believed in him to the last," continued Adrien, in the same low tones. "I believed him true, in spite of all your warnings."

He turned to his friend.

"Shelton," he said, "I cannot thank you as I should like, nor indeed you either, Mr. Harker. I am deeply grateful to you all for what you have done for me. Truly a man should take heed of his self-conceit, lest he fall, as I have done."

He dropped his head on his hands, and his father turned to him affectionately.

"You do not ask if the evil this man has worked can be remedied, Adrien," he said, in a softer tone than he had ever been known to use.

"You do not ask whether anything can be regained?"

"I am willing to pay the penalty of my folly," said Adrien, in a low tone; "and if only it can be arranged that you, too, do not suffer, I shall not mind."

"Not even if it should leave you penniless?" asked his father.

Adrien raised his head with a mournful smile.

"But for one reason, I am indifferent," he said.

His father's face lit up.

"Yes," he said, "I think I know that reason. Mr. Harker, will you be so good as to place Mr. Leroy in possession of the facts which you have already given me. I am almost too tired to speak, after the strain of these last few hours."

Adrien looked at him remorsefully; for the old man had indeed undergone much suffering during the last eventful weeks.

Mr. Harker laid a small book upon the table.

"This will do so better than I can, gentlemen," he said. "It is a list of the various investments in which Mr. Jasper Vermont placed the wealth he had so fraudulently ama.s.sed. His expenses were small; and the investments which were made with Mr. Leroy's money, and which he had hoped, of course, to put to his own use, amount to a large sum. When realised, they will cover the enormous embezzlements, when the forged bills are destroyed."

Adrien took up the book and glanced through it.

"Is this true?" he said, with an earnestness that all present understood. "Am I still a rich man?"

"The statement is correct, sir," returned Mr. Harker respectfully. "You will find that you have in reality benefited by his cunning and astuteness, even after the racing debts are fully paid."

Adrien laid the book on the table.

"I am grateful," he said gravely. "But I would leave this room penniless, and gladly, if by so doing I could bring one life back to us." Then, almost overcome by his emotion, he abruptly left the room.

On the morrow, despite all efforts to hush the matter up, the news went flying through the land. Adrien Leroy, the well-beloved of Vanity Fair, had been betrayed by his friend and confidant. Great was the sensation when all the facts came out into the full light, and it was known that Adrien had been saved by the traitor's own daughter, who had given her life that his might be spared.

Mr. Harker was well rewarded for the part he had taken in exposing Jasper Vermont, and preserving the Leroys from the pitfalls and ruin he had dug for them. All the forged bills were promptly burnt, and there remained only those real amounts that Adrien had signed, and which, all put together, only amounted to but a minute fraction of the supposed sums owing by the young man.

Jessica was buried in Windleham churchyard; the funeral was attended by all the Leroys, as well as by many of the countryfolk, for her sad little story had become known. Ada Lester was also present; she paid her last visit to the neighbourhood of Barminster on that day, and, with a tact most unusual to her, refrained from attracting any attention so far as the Leroys were concerned.

Well placed now in money matters, and proprietress of the Casket Theatre, she settled down to learn the art of acting as well as dancing, and eventually married her business manager. She also undertook to look after her sister, who, however, died shortly afterwards, without ever regaining her memory, or learning of the fate which had befallen the man whom she had once loved, or the daughter of whose existence she had forgotten since the day of her birth.

It took some time to settle up all the details of "Harker's Ltd." Jasper Vermont had died intestate; and although advertis.e.m.e.nts were inserted in various papers, seeking his next-of-kin, no answers were received. The money, therefore, reverted to the Crown; and Mr. Harker, taking up his real name of Goodwin, settled in Kingston with his daughter and her husband, who now, thanks to Lord Barminster, owned a flourishing business.

Lady Merivale never visited Barminster Castle again. She had succeeded in convincing her husband of the harmless nature of her flirtation with Adrien, and patiently bore the brunt of his very natural resentment at the publicity accorded to his name at the trial; though he acknowledged that under the circ.u.mstances she could have done nothing else but come forward to exonerate Leroy. Then her ladyship retired into the country with her husband, who was greatly gratified in the dutiful interest she showed in him and his farm. All love of intrigue seemed to have died out when her flirtation with Adrien ended, nor was it ever revived.

Society also lost its fashionable monarch, as far as Leroy was concerned. The vow that he had registered beside the dead body of the girl who had so loved him, was religiously kept. He disappeared from his former place in the world of amus.e.m.e.nt, and the devotees of pleasure knew him no more.

After the funeral, he stayed on at Barminster Castle for a time, with his father and Lady Constance; but, with the consent of both, he departed a few months later for Africa, on a big-game shooting expedition. Living the simple but arduous life of the hunters and trappers, he sought to bury the folly of the past, and restore his hopes of a brighter and better future.

One day, about six months after the death of Vermont, Lord Barminster sat in the dining-room of Barminster Castle. His eyes, their expression no less keen, but far more gentle than in former years, were bent, sometimes on the cheerful fire, sometimes on the calm face of his ward, where she stood in the deep embrasure of the window, gazing out over the snow.

A book was in her hand, but it was closed; and the wistful look in her sweet eyes showed that her thoughts had flown from the pages of fiction to the realities of the past and the future.

Suddenly Lord Barminster raised his head.

"Constance, what does Lady Ankerton say in her letter?"

The girl took it from the rack on the writing-desk.

"She says," replied the sweet, musical voice, "that the Ashfords are well and thriving. She has taken quite an interest in them. Mr. Harker is rather weak, but cheerful, and so happy in the love of his grandchildren."

"Ah!" said Lord Barminster, "I am glad they are happy, they deserve all the pleasure they can get."

He sighed. "When does the African mail come in, my dear?" he asked as Lady Constance put away the letter she had been reading.

"To-night, usually," she returned with a sigh. A sudden flush rose to her cheek, rendering her face still more lovely while it lasted, but leaving her paler than ever when it had gone.

"Still wandering," said her uncle sadly; "surely, by now, Adrien ought to have forgotten the past."

"He'll never come back until he does," said Lady Constance softly.

"No," said her uncle, with a touch of pride. "He will not come back until he can take up a worthier life with a worthy love, Constance. Ring the bell, my dear, and inquire for the mail."

She obeyed him and returned to the fire again, placing her hand upon the old man's shoulder. Very beautiful she looked, as the bright gleam of the firelight illumined her face, more lovely now because of its tender, womanly expression; and the old man's gaze rested lovingly on her.

"When he comes back," he said musingly, "Adrien will find a sweet prize.