Shacklock followed himand gave certain secret information at the Prefecture. The result ofthis was that Himes was arrested red-handed while committing anaudacious robbery at Asnieres, and sent to prison. He, of course,suspected that the friends with whom he had quarrelled had giveninformation, yet he could not absolutely prove it. His first impulsewas to retaliate by revealing all he knew regarding his late associates,but this was not enough for a man of his criminal instincts.
"In his heart there rankled through those long months of his confinementa murderous revenge. He swore that he would kill the men who betrayedhim--and he has kept his vow!"
"Yes," I said. "And he evidently believed that, being on such intimateterms with your father and yourself, I, too, was the latest recruit."
"Ah! Your escape, dear, was a most fortunate one!" declared Ella,gazing up into my eyes with that love-look that told me volumes.
"I wonder where Himes is now?" queried Sammy. "He certainly seemsabsolutely fearless in his revenge."
"What matters?" I said. "Let us remain silent. If he is captured,well and good. If not, we at least know the truth."
"He killed my father--recollect," Lucie remarked, in a hard voice.
"And was it not through your father--whose memory we should bury fromto-day--that my poor friend and your lover, Manuel Carrera, died?" askedSammy gravely.
Then a silence fell between all four of us. I was looking into theclear blue eyes of my well-beloved. All of us were preoccupied by ourown thoughts. From out the dark tragedy had at last shone the light oftruth.
After those years of grief and bitterness, of loneliness and yearning,Ella, my dear one, had been given back to me once more. She no longerwore the iron mask that she had borne so staunchly.
Our lips met again. She gazed into my eyes, and then she burst intotears--tears of joy. The fetters that bound her to the man she hatedhad been broken, and she stood there, sweet, pure, innocent and free--free to be mine--mine for ever.
"My love," I said, heedless that we were not alone, "this affection ofours is greater than death, great as eternity itself; a love that shallleave earth with us when our souls leave our bodies and reach itsuttermost perfection in other lives, in other worlds; a love that timecannot chill, nor any woe appal, nor any man unsever. God Himself hasunited us, and none can now place us asunder."
CHAPTER FORTY.
CONCLUSION.
To-day I am seated in the long old library at Wichenford where, at thebig writing-table set in the deep window, I have spent so many hoursputting down in black and white this curious chronicle of the evil thatmen do. The last blank folios lie before me.
What more need I tell you?
To describe the perfect happiness that now is mine would require stillanother volume. Ella--my own sweet Ella who was so nearly lost to me--became my wife a little over a year ago. She is seated in a long wickerchair at my side, while the summer sunset falling through the high olddiamond-panes shines upon her fresh open countenance and tints herbeautiful hair with gold.
It is the evening of a calm day, and a similar tranquillity seems tohave fallen upon our lives, for a great peace has come to us in thisstately old place that everywhere speaks mutely of the dignity of theMurrays.
Delightful indeed it is to be back again in England and no longer awanderer, for Mr Murray has given over Wichenford to us for our home,and he in his turn is travelling in the Far East.
Of Dr Gavazzi we heard news not long ago. He is in Vienna, living, wesuppose, upon his share of that money taken from his master's secrethiding-place, while Himes, having returned to America, was, we saw inthe papers, two months ago sentenced in New York to three years withhard labour for stealing a dressing-bag from a lady while travelling onthe "Chicago Limited."
A week after the death of Gordon-Wright and that eventful meeting atGranville Gardens when the enigma was solved, Lucie discovered in an oldkit-bag of her father's, at Studland, the packets of bank-notes obtainedfrom the Villa Verde, and, suspecting them to be the proceeds of somerobbery, she brought them to me. I suggested that as the money was nothers she should devote the whole of it to charity in Italy. Althoughfearing to put her foot on Italian soil again owing to the false andinfamous charge against her, she at once adopted my suggestion, with theresult that an orphan home at Poggio Imperiale, outside Florence, whichshe founded and endowed, now bears her name.
And the end? Well, I think you will agree that it is as it should be.
About three months after our return from our honeymoon in Norway Sammycame to me and made an announcement which caused me to clap him heartilyon the back and grip his hand. He had discovered that he had misjudgedpoor Lucie, that he loved her, and they were now already engaged.
To-day as I pen this final page they have been man and wife alreadythree whole months. Not long, it is true, but sufficient to show us howhappy they are in each other's love. They have taken "The Cedars," acharming old ivy-covered house a mile from Melton Mowbray, for both arepassionately fond of hunting, and both are looking forward to good runsthis next season.
The summer sun is sinking lower. Over everywhere is a faint etherealgolden mist that rises from the water and the woods; the colour deepens;the scent of the blossoms grows stronger. The charm of perfect freedomand perfect faith are ours. This modern world sneers at the isolationand absorption of passion as an egotism, but surely it is its highestsublimity. Love that remembers aught save the one beloved may beaffection, but it certainly is not love.
And while Ella and I are leading a life of peace undisturbed and of loveinfinite--a God-given love that surpasses any that man has known withinhis heart--Italian police agents in various parts of the world are stillin active search of Giovanni Nardini, and Scotland Yard is still sorelypuzzled over the antecedents and tragic end of the Mysterious MrMiller.
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The End.
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