time, have I realised all that yourself-martyrdom meant--only to-night have I discovered that, after all,you still loved me just as fondly and with a passion just as fierce asmy own--that even though engaged to Blumenthal your dear heart was stillmy own."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
CRUEL DESTINY.
James Harding Miller was seated alone in a long cane deck-chair on theterrace that ran the whole length of the beautiful old house. He haddrawn it out through the French windows of the smoking-room, and wasidly drawing out a cigar in the semi-darkness.
"Father!" cried Lucie, rushing forward as we approached, "do yourecognise our visitor?"
Instantly he jumped up, exclaiming:--
"Why Ella--Ella after all this time! Minton told me that you had calledand had gone in search of Lucie. And how is your father?"
"He's very well, thanks," was my love's reply. "I left him at Swanage,and drove out to see if Lucie was at home."
"And Mr Leaf," exclaimed Lucie. "I think you have met him before,father?"
"Certainly," Miller said pleasantly, extending his hand to me. "You arestaying here, in Studland?"
"For a couple of days or so," I answered.
"You mentioned that you had met my daughter," he remarked, and thenafter welcoming Ella and pressing her to remain there the night, heordered Minton to bring us chairs, and pushed the cigars across to me.
To Miller, Ella gave the same account of herself as she had given to us.The identity of the person who had spread the false report concerningher death--a report which had passed from mouth to mouth among all herfriends--was a mystery, and Miller was just as surprised and just aspleased as ourselves at her reappearance.
As we sat there in the starlight I listened to Ella's account of herfree, open-air life in County Galway, for Wichenford was still let tothe wealthy American; and her father, she said, preferred Ireland as aplace of residence when he could not live on his own estate.
"But you never wrote to us," Miller remarked. "Often we have spoken ofyou, and regretted that you were no longer with us. Indeed, yourportrait is still yonder in the drawing-room. Only the day beforeyesterday Mr Leaf noticed it, and inquired whether I knew you."
My love's eyes met mine in a long wistful look.
"I believed that you were always abroad," she answered him. "And--well,to tell the truth, I had an idea that you had altogether forgotten me."
"Forgotten you, dear?" cried Lucie. "We have never forgotten you. Howcould I ever forget my dearest friend--and more especially when I knewwhat a terrible self-sacrifice you had made?"
"What's that?" inquired Miller, quickly interested.
"Shall I tell him?" asked Lucie, turning to me.
"If you wish. It is only right, I think, that Mr Miller should knowthe truth."
Therefore, receiving Ella's consent as well, Lucie explained to herfather how I had been her friend's secret lover, and how she had brokenoff our affection by force of circumstance, sacrificing herself in orderto save her father from ruin.
He listened to his daughter in surprise, then sighing heavily, turned toElla, saying sympathetically:--
"How noble of you! Ah! what you both must have suffered! You need nottell me, either of you, for I know myself what it is to lose the womanone loves. I recollect my poor dear wife and still adore her memory."And this from a man who was suspected of being leader of a gang ofinternational criminals!
"The bitterness of the past," I said, "will perhaps render the joy ofthe present all the sweeter."
"It certainly ought to. Surely your delight at finding Ella alive andwell when you, like all of us, believed her dead, must be beyondbounds?"
"It is! It is!" I cried. "I, who believed that she preferred wealthto my honest love; I, who have these long years been filled with athousand regrets and reproaches, now know the truth. I have misjudgedher!"
The soft hand of my well-beloved sought my wrist and gripped it. Thataction conveyed more to me than any words of hers could have done.
Presently it grew chilly, and we went into the long old-fashioneddrawing-room, where we found Miss Miller, a pleasant grey-faced oldlady, in a cap with cherry-coloured ribbons, idling over a book.
Upon the table still stood the portrait of my dear heart, the picturewhich only two days before had awakened within me such bitterremembrances. The silk-shaded lamps shed a soft light over everything,illuminating for the first time my Ella's beautiful face. In thetwilight by the river I had seen that she had become even morebeautiful, yet the light that now fell upon her revealed a calmness andsweetness of expression that I had not hitherto been able todistinguish. She was far more lovely than I had believed--morebeautiful even than in those days of our secret love.
Those great blue eyes looked out upon me with that same love-flame as ofold--eyes that were clear and bright as a child's, the glance of whichwould have made any man's head reel--cheeks that were more delicatelymoulded than the marbles of Michael Angelo, and a grace that wasperfect, complete, adorable.
And she was mine--still my own!
Strange that this sudden happiness was actually the sequel of a tragedy!
"It is really delightful to be back here again," she remarked to Lucie,glancing round the room. "How well I remember the old days when, in theholidays, I came and stayed with you. Nothing has changed. The dearold place is just the same."
"Yes," replied Lucie. "I only wish we lived here more. But father andI are always abroad--always moving from place to place through France,Germany, Spain, Italy, just as the fit takes us. Nowadays, dear old dadis really like the Jew-errant. He can't remain more than a few days inone place--can you, dad?" she asked, laughing across at him.
"No, my dear," was his response in a strange voice. "I must travel--travel--always travel. To keep moving is part of my nature, I believe."
"Only fancy! he's here in England!" she remarked to Ella. "It's reallywonderful!"
While this conversation was in progress I was afraid that old MissMiller might refer to my call upon her; but fortunately she either didnot catch my name when introduced, or did not connect me with hermysterious visitor.
The owner of Studland Manor was, I saw, somewhat uneasy when hisdaughter began to explain how constantly they travelled. He seemed alittle annoyed that Lucie should tell us that they were constantlymoving, instead of living quietly by the Mediterranean outside Leghorn,as he would have me believe.
The old-fashioned Empire clock beneath its glass shade, standing on thechimney-piece, struck eleven, and I rose resolutely to take my leave. Ihad expressed pleasure at my new-found happiness, shook hands all round,and asked leave to call on the morrow.
"Certainly--most certainly," answered Miller, in that breezy manner thathe had sometimes assumed towards me on our last meeting. He wasessentially a man of moods, sometimes brooding and strange, at othersfull of buoyant good-humour, "You are always welcome here, remember.Perhaps you'll dine with us--just pot-luck--at seven to-morrow night? Idon't expect you get much that's worth eating down at the `Lion'. We'llinduce Ella to stay over to-morrow, eh?"
My love protested that she would be compelled to return to Swanage inthe morning, but we would not hear of it.
Then Miller, with a delicacy which further showed that he had taken afancy to me, suggested that Ella might, perhaps, like to accompany me asfar as the lodge-gates, and a few moments later I went forth with mylove into the darkness.
For the first hundred paces, until we entered the black shadows of theold beech hedge, we walked hand-in-hand, uttering no single word.
After that long interval of mourning and black despair, I was again ather side--alone. I was beside myself for very joy.
We halted. It seemed an almost involuntary action. Then taking hertenderly in my arms I pressed my lips to hers in a first long passionatecaress.
"My love!" I murmured, with heart overflowing, "my dearest love--youfor whom I have mourned, and whose dear memory I have ever revered--Godhas given you back to m
e. We have met again--you have been given to mefrom the grave, never to part--never--_never_!"
To my blank amazement she turned her pale white face from mine, withoutreciprocating my passionate kisses. She sighed, and a shiver ranthrough her slight frame. Her lips were cold, and with her hands shepushed me from her with averted face.
"Ella!" I gasped, holding her, and looking into her fine eyes, though Icould see no expression there, so dark was it. "Ella! Darling, may Inot at least kiss you welcome on your return to me? Are you not mine--my own?"
She made no response, only pushing me farther from her very firmly,although I felt that her tiny hands trembled. She was overcome withemotion, which she was in vain striving to
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