"You are surprised to see me, Dr. Darnley? You recognize me, I
perceive."

The rector contrived to say something about his surprise, but Lord
Mountdean interrupted him hastily:

"Yes, I understand. I was traveling as Mr. Charlewood when my terrible
misfortune overtook me here. I have returned from Italy, where I have
been spending the last three years. My father has just died, and I am
here in search of my child. My child," continued the earl, seeing the
rector's blank face--"where is she? I find my poor friend the doctor is
dead, and the house where my little one's foster-mother lived is empty.
Can you tell me what it means?"

He tried to speak calmly, but his handsome face had grown quite white,
his lips were dry and hot, his voice, even to himself, had a strange,
harsh sound.

"Where is she?" he repeated. "The little one--my Madaline's child? I
have a strange feeling that all is not well. Where is my child?"

He saw the shadow deepen on the rector's face, and he clasped his arm.

"Where is she?" he cried. "You cannot mean that she is dead? Not dead,
surely? I have not seen her since I left her, a little, feeble baby; but
she has lived in my heart through all these weary years of exile. My
whole soul has hungered and thirsted for her. By night and by day I have
dreamed of her, always with Madaline's face. She has spoken sweet words
to me in my dreams, always in Madaline's voice. I must see her. I cannot
bear this suspense. You do not answer me. Can it be that she too is