Cecilia's eyes close; a dry, painful sob comes from between her pallid lips.

"She will faint," cries Lilian, placing her arms round her.

"No, I shall not." By a great effort Cecilia overcomes the insensibility fast creeping over her. "I thank you, sir," she says to Archibald: "your words sound like truth. I would I dared believe them! but I have been so often----" she stops, half choked with emotion. "What must you think me but inhuman?" she says, sobbingly. "All women except me mourn their husband's death; I mourn, in that I fear him living."

"Madam," replies Archibald, scarcely knowing what to say, "I too knew Jasper Arlington; for me, therefore, it would be impossible to judge you harshly in this matter. Were you, or any other living soul, to pretend regret for him, pardon me if I say I should deem you a hypocrite."

"You must believe what he has told you," says Lilian, emphatically: "it admits of no denial. But, to-morrow, at all events, will bring you news from Colonel Trant that will compel you to acknowledge its truth."

"Yes, yes. Oh, that to-morrow was here!" murmurs Cecilia, faintly. And Lilian understands that not until Trant's letter is within her hands will she allow herself to entertain hope.

Silently Lilian embraces her, and she and Archibald return home.

At Chetwoode very intense relief and pleasure are felt as Lilian relates her wonderful story. Every one is only too willing to place credence in it. Chesney confesses to some sensations of shame.

"Somehow," he says, "it never occurred to me your tenant might be Jasper Arlington's wife and the pretty Miss Duncan who tore my heart into fritters some years ago. And I knew nothing of all this terrible story about her husband's supposed resuscitation until to-day. It is a 'comedy of errors.' I feel inclined to sink into the ground when I remember how I have walked about here among you all, with full proof of what would have set you all at rest in no time, carefully locked up in my breast.

Although innocent, Lady Chetwoode, I feel I ought to apologize."

"I shall go down and make her come up to Chetwoode," says her ladyship, warmly. "Poor girl! it is far too lonely for her to be down there by herself, especially just now when she must be so unstrung. As soon as I hear she has had that letter from George Trant, I shall persuade her to come to us."

The next evening brings a letter from Trant that falls like a little warm seal of certainty upon the good news of yesterday.

"Going down to the landing-place," writes he, "I found the steamer had really arrived, and went on board instantly. With my heart beating to suffocation I walked up to the captain, and asked him if any gentleman named Arlington had come with him. He said, 'Yes, he was here just now,'

and looking round, pointed to a tall man bending over some luggage.

'There he is,' he said. I went up to the tall man. I could see he was a good height, and that his hair was black. As I noted this last fact my blood froze in my veins. When I was quite close to him he raised himself, turned, and looked full at me! And once more my blood ran warmly, comfortably. It was _not_ the man I had feared to see. I drew my breath quickly, and to make a.s.surance doubly sure, determined to ask his name.

"'Sir,' I said, bluntly, forgetful of etiquette, 'is your name Arlington?'

"'Sir,' replied he, regarding me with calm surprise, 'it is.' At this moment I confess I lost my head. I became once more eighteen, and impulsive. I grasped his hands; I wrung them affectionately, not to say violently.

"'Then, my dear sir,' I exclaimed, rapturously, 'I owe you a debt of grat.i.tude. I thank you with all my heart. Had you not been born an Arlington, I might now be one of the most miserable men alive; as it is, I am one of the happiest.'

"My new friend stared. Then he gave way to an irrepressible laugh, and shrugged his shoulders expressively.

"'My good fellow,' said he, 'be reasonable. Take yourself back again to the excellent asylum from which you have escaped, and don't make further fuss about it. With your genial disposition you are sure to be caught.'

"At this I thought it better to offer him some slight explanation, which so amused him that he insisted on carrying me off with him to his hotel, where we dined, and where I found him a very excellent fellow indeed."

In this wise runs his letter. Cecilia reads it until each comforting a.s.sertion is shrined within her heart and doubt is no longer possible.

Then an intense grat.i.tude fills her whole being; her eyes grow dim with tears; clasping her hands earnestly, she falls upon her knees.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

"How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!

What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!"

--SHAKESPEARE.

So Lady Chetwoode goes down to The Cottage in her carriage, and insists upon carrying Cecilia back with her,--to which, after a slight demur, Cecilia gladly a.s.sents.

"But how to get Cyril," says practical Lilian, who is with them.

"He is in Amsterdam," answers Cecilia, with some hesitation. "Colonel Trant told me so in his letter."

"Colonel Trant is the most wonderful man I know," says Lilian; "but Amsterdam of all places! What on earth can any one want in Amsterdam?"

At this they all laugh, partly because they are still somewhat nervously inclined, and partly because (though why, I cannot explain) they seem to find something amusing in the mere thought of Amsterdam.

"I hope he won't bring back with him a fat _vrouw_," says Miss Chesney.

And then she runs up-stairs to tell Kate to get ready to accompany her mistress.

Turning rather timidly toward Lady Chetwoode, Cecilia says:

"When Cyril returns, then,--you will not--you do not----"

"When he returns, my dear, you must marry him at once, if only to make amends for all the misery the poor boy has been enduring.

But,"--kindly--"you must study economy, child; remember you are not marrying a rich man."

"He is rich enough for me," smiling; "though indeed it need not signify, as I have money enough for both. I never spoke of it until now, because I wished to keep it as a little surprise for him on--on our wedding-day, but at Mr. Arlington's death I inherited all his fortune. He never altered the will made before our marriage, and it is nearly four thousand a year, I think," simply: "Colonel Trant knows the exact amount, because he is a trustee."

Lady Chetwoode colors deeply. This woman, whom she had termed "adventuress," is in reality possessed of a far larger fortune than the son she would have guarded from her at all hazards; proves to be an heiress, still further enriched by the priceless gifts of grace and beauty!

To say the very least of it, Lady Chetwoode feels small. But, pride coming to her rescue, she says, somewhat stiffly, while the pleasant smile of a moment since dies from her face:

"I had no idea you were so--so--in fact, I believed you almost portionless. I was led--how I know not--but I certainly was led to think so. What you say is a surprise. With so much money you should hesitate before taking any final step. The world is before you,--you are young, and very charming. I will ask you to forgive an old woman's bluntness; but remember, there is always something desirable in a t.i.tle. I would have you therefore consider. My son is no match for you where _money_ is concerned." This last emphatically and very proudly.

Cecilia flushes, and grows distressed.

"Dear Lady Chetwoode," she says, taking her hand forcibly. "I entreat you not to speak to me so. Do not make me again unhappy. This money, which up to the present I have scarcely touched, so hateful has it been to me, has of late become almost precious to my sight. I please myself with the thought that the giving of it to--to Cyril--may be some small return to him for all the tenderness he has lavished upon me. Do not be angry with me that I cherish, and find such intense gratification in this idea. It is so sweet to give to those we love!"

"You have a generous heart," Lady Chetwoode answers, moved by her generous manner, and pleased too, for money, like music, "hath charms."

"If I have seemed ungracious, forget it. Extreme wonder makes us at times careless of courtesy, and we did not suspect one who could choose to live in such a quiet spot as this of being an heiress."

"You will keep my secret?" anxiously.

"I promise. You shall be the first to tell it to your husband upon your wedding-day. I think," says the elder lady, gracefully, "he is too blessed. Surely you possessed treasure enough in your own person!"

So Cecilia goes to Chetwoode, and shortly afterward Lady Chetwoode conceives a little plot that pleases her intensely, and which she relates with such evident gusto that Lilian tells her she is an _intrigante_ of the deepest dye, and that positively for the future she shall feel quite afraid of her.

"I never heard anything so artful," says Taffy, who has with much perseverance wormed himself into their confidence. In fact, after administering various rebuffs they all lose heart, and confess to him the whole truth out of utter desperation. "Downright artful!" repeats Mr. Musgrave, severely. "I shouldn't have believed you capable of it."