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Updated: June 16, 2025
She would have known that in taking little Madaline from Castledene she was destroying her last chance of ever being owned or claimed by her parents; she would have understood that, although she loved the child very dearly, she was committing a most cruel act. But she thought only of how she loved her. Yet, undiscerning as she was, she was puzzled about her daughter's happiness.
He wondered too what she could be like, this convict's daughter who had been gifted with a regal dower of grace and beauty this lowly-born child of the people who had been fair enough to charm the fastidious Lord Arleigh. Meanwhile Madaline was all unconscious of the strides that destiny was making in her favor.
I came back to England, and found that Mr. Trevor was dead. Madaline, his daughter, was left alone in the world. She raised her beautiful face to mine, poor child, and tried to smile while she talked of going out into the world and of working hard for her daily bread; and, as I listened, my love seemed to grow stronger and deeper.
"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?"
Lady Peters had taken with her a book, which she made some pretense of reading, but over which her eyes closed in most suspicious fashion. The duchess, too, had a book, but she made no pretense of opening it her beautiful face had a restless, half-wistful expression. They had quitted the drawing-room all together, but Madaline had gone to gather some peaches.
"A four-leaf clover!" exclaimed the girl in the wheel chair as her nurse moved on. "Oh, why didn't we show it to her!" lamented Cleo. "She can't walk to pick them!" "But she didn't tell us who she was," objected Grace. "I don't care. I'm just going to run after her and give her this four-leaf clover," declared the warm-hearted Madaline.
Something of the kind must have happened, for Madaline, unable to sleep, unable to rest, had risen in the early morning, while the dew was on the grass, and had gone out into the shade of the woods. The August sun shone brightly, a soft wind fanned her cheeks. Madaline looked round before she entered the woods. The square turrets of Verdun Royal rose high above the trees.
I did marry Madaline I loved her so dearly, I could not help it I married her; and she died one year afterward. But she left me a little daughter. Can you hear me, father?" No gleam of light came into the dying eyes, no consciousness into the quiet face; the earl did not hear.
"Suppose he turns out to be some great man who might give us a new park or something like that," ventured Madaline rather hazily, "then we would all come in for honors, wouldn't we?" "I would rather come in for the park," Cleo inserted. "We need a few more if we are going to do much drilling this summer." "That man might be a writer, camping out there, who wants material," speculated Margaret.
"In time to come," continued Lord Charlewood, "she shall have the grandest marble monument that can be raised, but now a plain white cross will be sufficient, with her name, Madaline Charlewood; and, doctor, while I am away you will have the grave attended to kept bright with flowers tended as for some one that you loved."
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