CHAPTER LXXI.
Camille had been in the drawing-room but a few minutes, when the door-bell rang loudly, and sent a nervous tremor through her whole frame.
“Some callers,” she thought, wondering why that strangepresentiment of evil trembled along her nerves. She shook it off, congratulating herself that the drawing-room was well lighted and her costume elegant.
“I may as well receive them, for I must soon take my old place in society,” she decided, as she heard a bustle in the hall, and knew that the visitors were being admitted.
Norman de Vere and his mother had come down into the hall a few moments before, and had been waiting most impatiently the signal to enter the grand drawing-room. At the ringing of the door-bell he gave his mother his arm, and with a stately step led her into the presence of Camille; but ere the astonished woman could utter a word, the door opened again, admitting visitors, at sight of whom Norman uttered a cry of joy and sprung forward. He had caught sight of Thea on Lord Stuart’s arm, and no power on earth but death could have hindered him from catching her in his arms and straining her to his heart in a passionate embrace.
“Oh, my love, my darling, my wife!” he cried, wildly—but Lord Stuart gently but firmly put them apart.
“Here is little Alan, my friend; give him your caresses just now,” he said, as he placed the half-fainting Thea in a seat, and taking Baby Alan from his sister, placed him in Norman’s arms. Then he greeted Norman’s mother, and presented his sister and Dr. Hinton.
Camille stood like a statue, with dilated eyes gazing at the scene before her. There was no greeting for her. No one seemed to see her as she stood a little apart in her dark trailing velvet and glittering diamonds, tall and elegant, with an angry sneer upon her thin lips.
Suddenly a hand touched her shoulder. She glanced around and saw Finette close by her side.
“Miladi, I slipped in behind them. I thought you might need me,” whispered the curious maid.
Camille did not reply. Lord Stuart had begun to speak, and she inclined her head to listen.
“Mr. de Vere, will you show me now the clothes worn by Little Sweetheart when you saved her life in the railway wreck many years ago?” he asked.
Then every one saw that Mrs. de Vere, the elder, had been carrying all the time a small bundle which she now began to unroll, while Lord Stuart, taking his sister’s hand, led her forward.
“Look at these things, my dear, and see if you recognize any of them,” he said, in a voice of tender emotion.
Lady Edith uttered a startled cry and slipped down uponher knees before the gentle, white-haired lady, beginning to touch the pretty embroidered robes with shaking fingers.
“Oh, brother, brother! these are the garments I embroidered for my darling little daughter!” she faltered, “and—oh, Heaven! here is her picture!” kissing it with despairing love. “Brother, brother! what does it mean? Oh, my lost Little Sweetheart! my angel!” she wept, wildly.
He stooped and lifted her up so that he could hold the half-fainting form in his arms.
“My darling, forgive me for deceiving you all these years,” he cried. “It was done to save your life and your reason, for when you lay ill so long and your little child was stolen from you, all efforts at its recovery proving vain, we were afraid to tell you the dreadful truth. We believed it better to pretend that the child had died and gone to join its father in a better world than for you to know that it was in the power of a wicked woman who stole it for purposes of revenge. I have tried to trace the child for years, and at last, by a fortunate accident, I found that our sweet Thea here was your missing child. Go to her, my darling.” But Thea, with a rapturous cry, bounded forward, and mother and child wept wildly in each other’s arms.