Lambert's hearers were silent for a few minutes. Both perceived the danger and difficulty of his situation. If Deering stuck to his text, and could trust Vincent to show equal pertinacity, all probabilities were on the side of the man of high character, fortune, and position.

Lady Gethin and Glynn might believe his story, from the internal evidence of sympathy and sentiment, but to the legal mind that would not be worth a straw.

If Deering chose, he might obtain Lambert's condemnation as a robber and murderer, and purchase revenge by the sacrifice of his estate. Thus a blow—a fatal blow—would be dealt to Elsie, whose tender, faithful nature would suffer intensely from the shock of such knowledge.

To Glynn there seemed but one means of security to both—one he was most ready to adopt. As his wife, Elsie would be out of Deering's reach, and with such a champion of her rights, he could not hope to make very favorable terms; still, for character's sake, he was almost bound to support his assertions should a whisper of them reach any ears save Vincent's and Lambert's. While he thought, Lambert seemed to revive.

"I never heard of such an utter villain!" exclaimed Lady Gethin. "I perfectly remember the death of old Deering. The next heir had been carried off by fever just before, making way rather unexpectedly for Gilbert.

"This man, Travers Deering, who had had a quarrel with his cousin, was in the office of the family solicitor, and was sent out to look for him in South America, as he had not been heard of for some time. The story goes that he met him and gave him rather a large sum of money for his expenses, which Gilbert took away up to some barbarous place, where he had left his baby girl. He was murdered and robbed in an outbreak of roughs, and the child was burned, they said, in the fire which consumed Gilbert's hut or house. It was all in the papers at the time, and Deering made search for the child, offered rewards, etc., and did not take possession of the property for some little time."

"That lynching business was a stroke of luck for Deering," said Lambert feebly.

"If not inconvenient, I should like to see the ring you mentioned," said Lady Gethin.

"Certainly," said Lambert. "Glynn, ask Elsie to bring the little despatch-box from the table in my room."

Glynn went to deliver the message, and Elsie, who came down-stairs, inquired anxiously if her father was not overtired. Glynn assured her that he seemed better for the relief of complete confidence. "I trust we shall be able to find a way out of all his difficulties," he concluded.

Elsie brought the box, and placing it in his hands, looked up in his eyes with a sweet, frank smile. "If his mind is at rest, he will soon be better."

"I am sure he will," said Glynn, his heart swelling with infinite compassion, as he thought of the tangled villainous mesh which had twined itself round her pure and simple life. To him belonged the task of protecting and delivering her. "And you too," he added, "you need rest and a sense of security."

"When I see him well, I too shall be myself again."

Glynn took her hand, and kissed it reverently. Something of consciousness called the color to her cheek at the touch of his lips, and it was with a faint, delicious glow of hope that Glynn went back to Lambert, who, drawing out a key which hung to his watch-chain, unlocked the box. After a little search he produced a small case from which he took an old-fashioned gold ring, two hands clasped, and a bracelet of tiny turquoises on each wrist. "There," said Lambert, "that is the ring I took from the poor fellow's hand after he had breathed his last."

Lady Gethin took it, and sat looking at it for a moment or two, her keen black eyes suffused with tears. "This is indeed a message from the grave," she said, with much emotion. "I gave this ring to Isabel Acton, a few days before she married my relative, Gilbert Deering. I was very poor at the time, and had little or nothing to give, so took this quaint old thing from my finger to put on hers. I never saw the poor girl again."

"What an extraordinary piece of evidence!" exclaimed Glynn.

"It corroborates the effect of your daughter's remarkable likeness to her mother. 'There is a providence that shapes our ends,'" said Lady Gethin in a low tone, and silence fell upon them, from which she was the first to rouse herself.

"There is no time to be lost in making some arrangement that will relieve you from this horrible condition of fear and concealment. Let us consult my lawyer."

"A lawyer!—no, no!" cried Lambert. "That would be dangerous."

"We must proceed with infinite caution," observed Glynn. "Deering's position is a strong one. You have only your own word to weigh against his. If we could get hold of Vincent?"

"There is little chance of that," said Lambert. "If I could only be sure my precious Elsie were safe."

"She shall come and stay with me," cried Lady Gethin with enthusiasm.

"That would be going into the lion's jaws," said Glynn. "This is my plan: I have learned to love your daughter (as I still consider her); let me try and win her; and let us keep all dark till she is my wife."

Lambert stretched out his hand to grasp Glynn's; he tried to speak in vain, and burst into a fit of hysterical weeping.

"Moreover," continued Glynn solemnly, "I promise, that if Deering resigns his bold attempts at revenge, no love of mere wealth shall induce me to open up the question of Elsie's parentage or your past life."

The sound of her father's sobs brought Elsie into the room, and broke off the conversation.

"It is altogether the most extraordinary romance I ever heard of," said Lady Gethin, when Glynn called a few days after these exciting disclosures. "I have been thinking what is best to be done. Suppose I take Elsie abroad with me, and you follow. You can be married quietly, and then snap your fingers at Deering. Lambert alone he could easily crush, but Lambert as 'father-in-law to a very magnificent three-tailed Bashaw' is a different matter. I am deeply interested in your little lady-love, and I am by no means disposed to give up her inheritance to that double-dyed traitor."

"You must remember I have not yet been accepted. I have not even tried my chance."

"Pray do not lose any more time. She would never be such a fool as to refuse you! You are really a very acceptable sort of man."

"Thanks for the compliment. But I hesitate; because I dread the complications which would ensue if she refuses me!"

"Fiddle-de-dee. She won't refuse you! I would not refuse you were I a young lady."

Glynn laughed, and then grew grave. "I was rather annoyed yesterday to hear from Mrs. Kellett, who is staying at her cousin's school at Clapham, that she is afraid she is being watched—she is not sure; but of course she is nervously on the qui vive. She rarely ventures to Garston Terrace; and the blessed day I found Elsie they had met at that hotel in Holborn to arrange some money matters, as Mrs. Kellett is afraid to write."

"What a dreadful state of things! So it was Elsie's voice you heard at Clapham! Was that Mrs. Storrer in the secret?"

"Not altogether. When Elsie first went she thought she was French; afterwards Mrs. Kellett partially confided in her, and between them they prepared the story of her having gone with a family to India, in case of inquiries."

"Well!" said Lady Gethin, "I shall make my preparations for going abroad; and you go and settle things with Elsie and her father. By the way, have you found out how he escaped from the steamer where Vincent absolutely saw him en route for America?"

"By a very clever dodge. Lambert waited and watched till he found a needy countryman something of his own height and color, who wished to go to New York. He offered to pay this man's passage from Liverpool if he would go under the name of Lambert. This he readily agreed to. Lambert went to see him off. His representative wore a mackintosh of a peculiar cut, a chimney-pot hat, and a large, white comforter muffling the lower part of his face. Lambert had a brown cloth overcoat, and fur travelling-cap. He and his friend talked together on the deck till the last moment, and then seeing Vincent (of whose presence he had been aware) move off, he slipped behind some shelter with his friend, and changed coat and hat in hot haste; Lambert twisted the comforter round his throat and face, and joined the crowd on the gangway a little behind Vincent. The fellow paused on the pier to watch the rest go by; and Lambert passed him with the utmost sang-froid, even stopping to wave his hand to his friend on deck, and then walked smartly on, jumped into a cab, and caught the London train."

"Well done! But the most determined will, the most inventive brain, cannot keep up concealment in these days if you are looked for! Suppose you were to see Deering yourself, Hugh?"

"No; the only chance for present peace is to let him suppose that I am ignorant of the truth."

"Perhaps so! I must say I am most reluctant to let that wretch escape."

"So am I; but I think of Elsie before everything. Well, go away and settle everything with her; tell her to be ready to start for the Continent on Monday."

It was late before Glynn reached Garston Terrace; he had had some business to attend to, and took a hasty meal at his club, thus securing a long evening.

Never did the way seem so long. He was resolved that if an opportunity offered, or even if it did not, to avow his affection to Elsie, and try to obtain her promise in return.

When he reached the door, the landlady informed him that Missee "was very much upset, and waiting for him in the drawing-room." The moment he entered she flew to him with outstretched hands, which he took and tenderly held.

"Why have you been so long? Oh! I have seen him. He has followed us here! What shall we do?—how shall we escape?"

"Whom have you seen?" asked Glynn, drawing her to him, distressed at the wild fear in her eyes.

"Vincent!" she whispered. "I saw him from my bedroom about three hours ago; my room is to the front. He did not see me, I am sure; he was looking round when I first caught sight of him, and his back was towards me, so I kept behind the curtain. Oh! Mr. Glynn, it will kill my father, I know it will! What can we do? Will you not help us?"

"I would give my life to buy peace for you, sweetest," cried Glynn passionately. "Give me the right to be with you, to guard you and your father! I love you with all my heart and soul. Give me a little love in return! be my own dear wife. I swear, whether you are or not, that accursed American shall do you no harm. Elsie, beloved! will you be mine?" He grasped her hands tightly, and held her eyes with his, as if he would penetrate her heart's secret. At first an expression of profoundest amazement flitted over her face, succeeded by a deep burning blush, as she shrank back from him.

"Are you sure this is not compassion?" she asked, in a very low voice.

"Compassion? No; why should it be compassion? Do you not feel, do you not see, that I love you, as men rarely love?" A curious, amused smile stole round Elsie's lips, and her eyes sunk to the ground. "What do you smile at?" asked Glynn, surprised in his turn.

"At your change of mind. Some seven or eight months ago you refused to marry me!"

"How do you know?" cried Glynn, feeling as if the glowing currents in his veins were arrested and turned to ice.

"By means of which I ought to be and am ashamed."

"Tell me!"

"You were sitting after dinner with my father, and I came into my own little room. The curtain was down, but I heard him say something about 'my jewel,' as he so often called me, and," hesitating, "I listened. I know it was shameful, but I could not resist. What struck me most was that he offered to go away, not to see me. I wondered what sort of man you could be to need such an assurance!"

"What could you have thought of me?" cried Glynn. "Can you ever forgive my insane folly?"

"Oh! I did not mind! These plans of marriage are often made by thoughtful parents. You hardly knew me then; it would have been foolish to agree to what might not have been suitable. I did not dream of marrying you. You seemed to me too——"

"Old?" suggested Glynn, more charmed than ever with her sweet, grave simplicity, and thirsting to kiss the lovely mouth that spoke so melodiously.

"No," with a smile, "not old, but grand; I cannot exactly express what I mean. I did not want to marry you. Indeed, I was so taken up with what my father said about keeping away from me, that I did not think much about you."

"Will you think of me now?" exclaimed Glynn. "Look at me, dearest! read my heart in my eyes. Believe me, there is nothing in heaven above, or earth beneath, that I desire as I desire your love!"

Elsie grew a little pale.

"I am half-frightened at the idea. It is not good for you; it is not wise of you; though I am ignorant of the world, I know it must be bad for any man to marry a girl who has been obliged to hide away as I have been—who is surrounded with mystery and fear, and who could never, never forsake her dear father even for you!"

"Even for me! then you love me a little, Elsie?"

"I do!" with a slight sob. "I love you for your loyalty and goodness to my father. I love you"—she stopped and added with gentle solemnity—"for yourself." Yielding to his passionate embrace, she clung to him and burst into a fit of wild weeping that surprised and disturbed him. "I hope it is not wrong to let you love me," she murmured brokenly; "I do not know what is behind, and if we must part——"

"We never shall unless by your special wish, my own, my life. I know everything, and you shall know everything by and by. Will you not wait and trust your father and me?"

"I will," she returned, and Glynn felt her "I will" was equal to another's oath. She disengaged herself from his arms, and stood for an instant with clasped hands in silent, prayerful thought. Glynn waited till she stirred, and then taking her hand, began softly to explain to her the necessity of a speedy marriage, and Lady Gethin's wish to take her abroad at once. This Elsie demurred to; she could not leave her father, who, though wonderfully recovered in health, was greatly depressed and despondent.

"Let us go and consult him," said Glynn.

"Oh, yes; I have forgotten him too long. Shall we tell him that I saw Vincent?"

"No, certainly not. The knowledge will not add to his safety, and may injure him. He must leave this——"

"He is very safe here. The house is really ours. Mrs. Kellett took it furnished for a year. The landlady is really her old servant, who knew me as a child. She was here for two months before we came. She will never say anything that could betray us."

"Ah! an excellent plan. But come to your father—we must consult him."

Lambert was reading a newspaper when they entered his room. He was looking stronger and more like himself than Glynn had seen him since they had met in London. He welcomed them cordially, glancing from one to the other, as if perceiving traces of unusual emotion. "Lambert," said Glynn, "we have come to ask your consent. I am so infinitely happy as to have won Elsie's; you will not withhold yours?"

"My God, I thank Thee!" murmured Lambert. "My child—my Elsie, you will be safe now, and I have done with life."

Elsie ran to him, and putting her arms round his neck kissed him over and over again, exclaiming, "No, my own dear father, you will begin life anew; the best of it is to come. He loves you, too; he will help me to make you happy."

When they were a little calmer Glynn began to speak of Lady Gethin's plans, and rather to Elsie's surprise Lambert was eager to adopt them. He declared it would make his mind quite easy to know that his daughter was under Lady Gethin's care; that he would soon be able to travel, and join them with Glynn. He seemed eager that this plan should be carried out.

"Father," said Elsie, taking his hand in both hers, "will you not trust me?—will you not tell me the secret?"

"Well, not quite all of it," said Lambert, with a peculiar look at Glynn. "You see, my dear, a long time ago I was foolish enough to get mixed up in a political plot to upset the Government in Ireland. Well, it never came to anything; a blackguard connected with it betrayed everything, and he was murdered out—oh, out in California. Well, unfortunately I was the last person seen with him, and Deering has got evidence that might hang me. Now I don't want a row until I have the means of disproving his assertions. Of course he has an object in all this, and of course you don't believe I would take a life?"

"You, dear, dear father! No, indeed; but why—why were you obliged to hide me? Would it not be better to face it all?"

"I hid you, my darling, because that red devil had a design to remove you from my guardianship on the plea that I was a criminal; and as to facing it, I'll do that when I have counter evidence, which I hope to get."

"Which is only prudent," put in Glynn.

"It is all very strange," said Elsie, trembling visibly. "They cannot hurt him, can they?"—to Glynn. "They shall not. And you," she continued, turning to him, "you wish to marry me in the face of all this?"

"As ardently as if you were the daughter of the proudest potentate in Europe."

Elsie was silent, her bosom heaved, tears hung heavy on her long lashes, and it was only by a strong effort of her habitual self-control that she resisted an outburst of tears.

"You are fit for the best king that ever sat on a throne," cried Lambert: "and Glynn is worthy of you. Now, my darling, go—go write a letter to Mrs. Kellett and tell her everything; Glynn will post it (we are desperately cautious about communicating with Mrs. Kellett), and I will have a little talk with Glynn."

Elsie, who looked shocked and shaken, kissed her father's hand lovingly, and exclaimed:

"You can never be accused seriously. Surely there is no danger? Why does Mr. Deering hate you? I did not believe there was such wickedness except in books."

With an appealing look at Glynn, she left the room.

"It was a good thought," said Lambert, leaning back with a deep sigh, "a very good thought, to make her believe I was mixed up with the rebel Irish; so I have been, but not much. Anything rather than the truth. I tell you, Glynn, she must never know that I killed her own father, of whom she has still a confused memory, for she has let out that I sometimes seem different from the picture her early memory presents of me. I'd die out-right rather, Glynn. The toils press me closer and closer, but my Elsie will be safe with you."

"As safe as love and care can make her," said Glynn in a low, solemn tone.

"Then it matters little about me," said Lambert, and remained silent for a few minutes with a look of deepest despondency.

"Suppose you let me see Deering on your behalf?" suggested Glynn. "I might——"

"No, no," interrupted Lambert vehemently; "none must meddle with him but me. Once Elsie is away, I will go and see him. If he knows she is safe out of his reach, the black villain, he may come to terms. But he'd do anything for revenge. I believe he could hang me; and he might choose to destroy me, and through me my darling. No; I will see him myself as soon as I am a trifle stronger." Lambert rose, and walked up and down the room with a sort of feeble energy very touching. "If I could get out," he said, "I'd gather strength, and I don't want to face that scoundrel till I have the pluck to stand up to him. Oh, Glynn, Glynn, I feel as if he would get the better of me!"

"You must keep up your heart, Lambert, for her sake. If Deering knows that Elsie is, or soon will be, my wife, and that you will not press any claim upon him, he will be glad enough to keep quiet."

"May be so, may be so; anyway, you lifted a great load off my mind by making it all right with my jewel. I'll let you go now, I am desperate tired. You go and have a little talk with Elsie while I rest and think what's best to be done. You tell Elsie to get all ready to start with Lady Gethin; and, Glynn, promise me one thing—never let her know that I shot her father. Your hand on it."

"I promise you," said Glynn gravely.

Another delightful hour with Elsie, and he was obliged to go. He had persuaded her to accompany Lady Gethin, and had undertaken not to lose sight of her father until he conveyed him safely to Lausanne. The idea that Deering was plotting against his life had greatly affected her.

"There must be much you do not tell me," she said. "The whole thing seems so strange and terrible."

"No doubt it does," said Glynn. "Later, I am sure, your father will tell you more. Now, my love, my darling, I must leave you."

"Before you go," said Elsie, raising her eyes to his with a grave smile, "tell me your name! I never heard it, and I want to know; I want to call you by some name more familiar than Mr. Glynn in my thoughts."

"I hope you will, dearest. I am called Hugh."

"Hugh! I do not know that name. I like it. It sounds strong." Then, with a vivid blush, but a certain steadiness, as if she had made up her mind, she said, "Good-night, dear Hugh."

Glynn clasped her in his arms, and kissing her tenderly implored her to take courage and believe that her father's innocence would yet be proved, and the villainy plotted against him frustrated.

It was a dreadful wrench for Elsie to part from her father. It needed the united influence and urging both of Glynn and Lambert to persuade her at the last. For the few days intervening between Glynn's avowal and Elsie's departure, Lambert walked every morning in the little garden behind the house, leaning on his daughter's arm. He seemed feverishly eager to regain strength now that the local doctor who attended him ceased his visits, and declared him convalescent.

Lambert, having determined to declare himself to Deering, was less nervously anxious to keep in hiding, and even drove with Glynn and Elsie as far as Lady Gethin's the morning of the day the latter were to start for the Continent. He wanted, he said, to see the last of his child.

"The last for the next few weeks," corrected Glynn.

"May be so, may be so," said Lambert, with a sad ring in his voice.

Lady Gethin made him welcome, and at once evinced an inclination to pet Elsie, who was too much overcome by the dread of leaving her father to heed the minute kindnesses heaped upon her.

"Don't be too downcast about her," said Lady Gethin, who was in her element at the head of affairs and in the centre of a romantic mystery. "When she is clear away, and has had a few cheering letters from her father, she will be all right. The sooner he makes things square with Deering the better. I can never believe he would be such a headstrong idiot as to throw away a splendid estate and high position for the sake of mere revenge."

"Mere revenge! It is a powerful incentive. Remember the ill-health of that crippled boy of his! I doubt if he cares to transmit much to him, and then he no doubt counts on a compromise that he would be left the life-use of the property."

"To which I hope and trust you would never consent, Hugh! I'd take that wretch's skin off, if I could! In fact I have set my heart on seeing you master of Denham one of these days. It is infamous that wickedness should flourish in high places."

"I prefer keeping my word to Lambert that Elsie should never know how her real father died, to possessing the finest property in the kingdom."

"Well, you need not break your word; neither need you be Quixotic."

These sentences were exchanged in the dining-room, from which Lambert and Elsie had retired to have a few words in private in Lady Gethin's boudoir. Thither she and Glynn followed them, the latter drawing Elsie into the conservatory adjoining.

"The next fortnight will be awfully blank," he exclaimed, when they were out of earshot. "By that time I trust all difficulties will be surmounted, and I shall be able to start with your father for Lausanne; then I trust there will only be peace and love for you both in the future."

"Would to God this terrible interval were over!" said Elsie, with a quivering sigh.

"I intend to insist on your father's staying with me in my chambers until he is free to join you! Trust him to me, dearest," replied Glynn.

"How good you are! How can I ever thank you enough?" cried Elsie, and carried away by tenderness and gratitude her arms stole round his neck, and she kissed him repeatedly in all the simple sincerity of unhesitating affection.

Soon after, as it was growing late, Lambert proposed returning to his lodgings. He had said good-bye to Lady Gethin, and tenderly embraced Elsie. He had even gone half-way down-stairs when he suddenly paused, and turning back exclaimed, "I must take one more look at her," and ascending to the drawing-room, took her hand in both his own. Gazing intently into her face, he said softly, "My own jewel! Have I made you happy? Will you pardon me any wrong I may have done you?"

"Wrong!—you have done me nothing but good. No father ever made a daughter happier than you have made me."

"Then give me a loving thought now and again. God bless you, my darling. Good-bye, good-bye."

"Only for a little while, dearest, best!" she exclaimed. "Be careful, and come to me soon!"

Lambert made no reply. He hurried into the cab which waited below, and accompanied by Glynn returned to his lodgings in safety.

There was little or no difficulty in persuading Lambert to accept his future son-in-law's invitation. Though greatly pleased to know Elsie was with Lady Gethin, he evidently shrank from being alone, and was in so low and nervous a condition that Glynn insisted on carrying him off to his chambers the day after Elsie's departure.

Here he revived considerably, and was able to receive a visit from Mrs. Kellett. Letters from Elsie and Lady Gethin also cheered him. Still he was not himself, and his restlessness was painful at times.

Glynn carefully avoided any appearance of change in his habits, and went out to dinners and parties as usual. At one of these he encountered Deering, and took the initiative by asking if he had been all this time in the country, as he had not met him anywhere lately.

"I stayed longer than I intended at Denham, putting matters in train for the election, and now that radical fellow Smithson will neither die or retire. But you have been rather scarce lately. I haven't seen you in the haunts of men."

"I think I have been as much about as usual. By the way, is your American friend Vincent in town? I fancied I saw him the other day in Bond Street."

"Vincent! yes; at least he was last week. The fellow is a born detective. He will not give up the chase after Lambert and his daughter. It seems he found out that the woman who brought Miss Lambert up is staying at Clapham, and he has been dodging her, thinking he will track the Lamberts through her. By the way, the American police are duffers: they have at last found out that they have been hunting the wrong man. My own belief is that Lambert never quitted England."

"Perhaps not," returned Glynn. "Are you to be at the Milton wedding next week? Lady Agnes is your sister-in-law, is she not?"

"No, only my wife's cousin; she is not very well,—Lady Frances I mean,—and I have begged off the festivity. I go down to Denham on Wednesday for a few days. I am making some alterations there, and want to look after them."

"Well, good-night."

Glynn returned with so much information for Lambert, who was evidently stirred by it. "I am better and stronger," he said, rising and stretching himself: "I'll take heart, and go talk to him in the midst of his ill-gotten property; maybe he'll hear reason. If not——"

"If not, let me see him and remonstrate."

"Anyway, I'll not bear this state of misery any longer; I'll find freedom somehow!" cried Lambert, with an air of determination.