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His handsome face, his dark eyes, and rich curling hair had won the heart of the pretty, graceful, gentle lady's-maid, and she had married him only to rue the day and hour in which she had first seen him. They lived in a picturesque little cottage called Ashwood, and there Margaret Dornham passed through the greatest joy and greatest sorrow of her life.
Besides his great love for the little Madaline, he became interested in the story of Margaret Dornham's life in her love for the handsome, reckless ne'er-do-well who had given up work as a failure in her wonderful patience, for she never complained in her sublime heroism, for she bore all as a martyr. He heard how Henry Dornham was often seen intoxicated heard that he was abusive, violent.
He saw a large mansion, but it never occurred to him to ask whether his daughter was mistress or servant; he only knew that the carriage had stopped, and that very shortly he should see his child. Presently he found himself in a large hall gay with flowers and covered with Indian matting, and Margaret Dornham was trembling before him.
"That which was his," said Lord Arleigh, bluntly, "at least was not yours to take." "But I say it was! I helped myself before, and, if I were out of this place, having the chance, I would help myself again." "That would be equally criminal," said Lord Arleigh, fearlessly and again Henry Dornham laughed his cynical laugh.
A new idea suddenly occurred to Mrs. Dornham. She looked into Lady Arleigh's pale, beautiful face. "Madaline," she said, earnestly, "tell me the whole truth is your father's misfortune any drawback to you? Tell me the truth; I have a reason for asking you." But Lady Arleigh would not pain her mother her quiet, simple heart had ached bitterly enough. She would not add one pang.
Just three years had elapsed since Lady Charlewood had died; and then the great trouble of her life came to Margaret Dornham. On the day after Dr. Letsom's death, Margaret Dornham's husband was apprehended on a charge of poaching and aiding in a dangerous assault on Lord Turton's gamekeepers. Bail was refused for him, but at the trial he was acquitted for want of evidence.
Henry Dornham had never borne a good character; he had a dark, handsome face a certain kind of rich, gypsy-like beauty but no other qualifications. He was neither industrious, nor honest, nor sober.
"I will take you to her, sir," was the reply "at once, if you will go." "I will not lose a minute," said the earl, hastily. "It is time, Mrs. Dornham, that you knew my name, and my daughter's also. I am the Earl of Mountdean, and she is Lady Madaline Charlewood." On hearing this, Margaret Dornham was more frightened than ever. She rose from her knees and stood before him.
He went to the railway stations; and, though the only clew he succeeded in obtaining was a very faint one, he had some reason for believing that Margaret Dornham had gone to London. In that vast city he continued the search, until it really seemed that every inch of ground had been examined. It was all without result Margaret Dornham and her little foster-child seemed to have vanished.
Of all her mother's troubles she knew this would be the greatest so she generously refrained from naming it. There was no need to tell her patient, long-suffering, unhappy mother that which must prove like a dagger in her gentle heart. So Margaret Dornham had one gleam of sunshine in her wretched life. She believed that the girl she had loved so dearly was unutterably happy.
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