noble, gentle lady whom I could call daughter; I should like to hold
your children in my arms, to hear the music of children's voices before
I go."

"Should you love my children so much, father?" he asked.

"Yes, more than I can tell you. You must marry, Hubert, and then, as far
as you are concerned, I shall not have a wish left unfulfilled."

There was hope then for his little Madaline--hope that in time she would
win the old earl's heart, and prevent his grieving over the unfortunate
marriage. For two years and a half the Earl of Mountdean lingered; the
fair Italian clime, the warmth, the sunshine, the flowers, all seemed to
join in giving him new life. For two years and a half he improved, so
that his son had begun to hope that he might return to England, and once
more see the home he loved so dearly--Wood Lynton; and, though during
this time his secret preyed upon him through every hour of every day,
causing him to long to tell his father, yet he controlled the longing,
because he would do nothing that might in the least degree retard his
recovery. Then, when the two years and a half had passed, and he began
to take counsel with himself how he could best break the intelligence,
the earl's health suddenly failed him, and he could not accomplish his
purpose.

During this time he had every six months sent regular remittances to
England, and had received in return most encouraging letters about
little Madaline. She was growing strong and beautiful; she was healthy,
fair, and happy. She could say his name; she could sing little
baby-songs. Once, the doctor cut a long golden-brown curl from her
little head and sent it to him; but when he received it the earl lay