"
"You have?" she said, wonderingly. "Who then are yon?"
"That is what I want to tell you without startling you, Madaline--dear
Heaven, how strange it seems to utter that name again! You have always
believed that good woman who has just quitted the room to be your
mother?"
"Yes, always," she repeated, wonderingly.
"And that wretched man, the convict, you have always believed to be your
father?"
"Always," she repeated.
"Will it pain or startle you very much to hear that they are not even
distantly related to you--that the woman was simply chosen as your
foster mother because she had just lost her own child?"
"I cannot believe it," she cried, trembling violently. "Who are you who
tells me this?"
"I am Hubert, Earl of Mountdean," he replied, "and, if you will allow
me, I will tell you what else I am."
"Tell me," she said, gently.
"I am your father, Madaline--and the best part of my life has been spent
in looking for you."
"My father," she said, faintly. "Then I am not the daughter of a
convict--my father is an earl?"
"I am your father," he repeated, "and you, child, have you, child, have
your mother's face.
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