She looked up, trembling and shivering, and wailed out:

"Papa, be merciful--spare me, spare me!"

He made no answer. His head was bowed on his hands, his face hidden.

Queenie looked at him and saw with a sudden sharp pang how strangely his cl.u.s.tering locks had whitened in the past year. She raised herself up and threw her arms around him, laying her cheek against his shoulder.

"Papa," she whispered, mournfully, "look up--I will tell you all--but only to _you, you alone_, dearest and best of fathers--can I reveal the _terrible_ secret that has ruined my life!"

With her cheek against his shoulder and her hand locked in his, Queenie Lyle poured forth in burning words the story of that missing year--the saddest story to which her father had ever listened--yet he made no comment, uttered no word, until she had finished and thrown herself down at his feet with the wailing cry:

"Papa, can you _ever_ forgive me?"

He did not try to lift her up as she lay there. He only said in a deep, intense voice, with a lightning flash in his deep eyes:

"Queenie, you have forgotten to tell me one thing--_his name_."

She shuddered from head to foot.

"Papa, it is the only thing I must keep from you--that hated name! What matters it? Is he not beyond the reach of your vengeance?"

"True, true," he answered with a strong shudder. "Oh, Queenie, my poor child, would to G.o.d I had died before this terrible thing came upon me!"

She crept nearer him and rested her bowed head on his knee, all her glorious, golden tresses sweeping to the floor.

His heart ached as he saw that bright head lying there bowed low with shame and disgrace.

"Papa," she whispered, in a voice like saddest music, "papa, do you _condemn_ me?"

He was silent a moment, struggling with the keenest agony he had ever known. Then he answered very gently:

"My poor Queenie, I forgive you." Then added in the words of the great Teacher of men: "Let him that is without sin cast the first stone."

And the first beams of the newly risen day shone into the room and crowned his gray head like a halo of light.

CHAPTER VII.

"Yes, Queenie was quite sick for more than a month after we returned from abroad. She is not strong yet, but she has promised to come down into the drawing-room for a little while this evening."

It was Mrs. Lyle who spoke, in the calmest, most composed tone in the world. She was leaning back in her chair, richly dressed in silk and lace and fluttering her fan as she talked to Captain Ernscliffe who leaned over the back of her chair, tall, handsome and stately, the most distinguished-looking man in the room.

Mrs. Lyle was giving a small reception after her return, and had bidden the _creme de la creme_ of society only, to welcome her home.

There were beautiful women in plenty present, and none but had a flattering smile for Captain Ernscliffe, but though he smiled and chatted with all, he still kept looking over even the fairest heads toward the door for one absent face while his heart thrilled with anxiety and expectation.

She came at last, and though he had been watching for her so long he scarcely knew her when she entered. He had expected to see a little, fairy-like creature, with a sunny smile and falling ringlets, and cheeks like pinkest rose leaves. Instead, there entered a tall, pale, graceful girl, clad in a dress of white lace ornamented with knots of purple, golden-hearted pansies. The crimson lips were set in a proud curve instead of a smile, and the dark fringe of her lashes swept so low that they almost shadowed her cheeks. Her golden hair was confined in a thick braid and wound about her head like a coronet, making her seem as stately as a young princess.

She was changed, greatly changed, from a year ago, and yet none who looked at the fair, calm face, with pride sitting regnant on the broad, white brow, would have dreamed that the pathos and pain of a terrible tragedy had been wrought into her life and had seared her heart and soul as with fire.

Friends and acquaintances crowded around her and it was many minutes before she found her way to her mother's chair where Captain Ernscliffe still stood with his heart beating so fast that he thought she must have heard it. It seemed to him as if everyone in the room must read in his face the secret of his love for Queenie Lyle who had rejected him a year ago with all the thoughtless lightness of girlhood. But no, his face was perfectly calm to all appearance, and as the girl gave one timid, upward glance at him she thought he had forgotten or outlived the pain of his rejection.

"I scarcely dared hope that you would return home as you went," he said after the first formal greeting. "I feared some French count or English lord would claim you as his own."

She blushed, and her eyes fell until the dark lashes rested on her burning cheeks.

"I was not so fortunate as to claim the admiration of any of the n.o.bility," she answered carelessly. "Georgie outshone us all. She is to be married to an English lord in a month from now."

"I am very glad it is not you who are to be married to him," he answered laughing, but with an undertone of sincerity.

Other friends claimed her for awhile, but by-and-bye his restless glance found her out sitting by a window alone for the moment, and looking tired and a little sad.

"You are not strong enough to stand the heat of the rooms," he said kindly. "Come out in the garden and walk in the moonlight with me."

She took his arm and they went out in the garden. It was summer, and the flowers were blooming in profuse sweetness. The air was heavy with the odor of the roses and honeysuckle. They sat down upon a rustic seat with the full flood of brilliant moonlight falling on Queenie's uncovered head and lovely white face.

"You have grown more beautiful than ever, Queenie," said her companion admiringly.

She did not answer, but he fancied that he heard a faint, quickly smothered sigh.

Impulsively he took into his own the small hand lying cold and listless in her lap.

"It has been a year since I saw you, Queenie," he exclaimed, "but I find the old love rising in my heart as pa.s.sionately as if we had only parted yesterday. Dearest, have you ever repented of your cruelty to me?"

She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of a fathomless sadness and vague regret.

"Ah! yes," she said, and her voice was almost a wail of pain. "I have repented, Captain Ernscliffe, I have been sorry often and often for my blind mistake!"

He held out his arms, drawing he scarcely knew what hope from her agitated words.

"Queenie, come to me," he cried. "Let atonement follow repentance."

But she drew back, trembling and frightened.

"I--oh, I did not mean that," she said, "I cannot--_it is too late!_"

"Queenie, do not be cruel to me again," he pleaded, carried away by the rush of his wild pa.s.sion. "If you knew how I have wearied for you since you went away, how blank my life has been, you could not be so cruel!

You would give yourself to me out of sheer pity and tenderness."

"But I do not love you," she said.

"I will teach you to love me, Queenie. I love you so well that I could not help winning your love in return if you only gave me the privilege to try. Say yes, my beautiful darling, and make me the happiest of men!"

She sat still with her head bowed and her hands locked together in her lap like one thinking intently. At length she said, without lifting her head to look at him:

"I do not believe I can make you happy, Captain Ernscliffe, but I will be your wife if you want me."