Lady Bryn Afon listened to her husband's sudden proposition in absolute stillness, only the tight, convulsive clasping of her hands upon her knee showing that such an idea caused her any emotion. "The unnatural mother who could part with an innocent babe, to leave it in a stranger's hands," continued the earl, "for stranger Jack was, if indeed a relative, is not likely in my opinion to come forward and reclaim it--or what saith your woman's wit? And for the child's own sake, surely Jack would not raise any objection? He knows well enough that she is not his own child, and he must see, as I have done myself, that she is gifted by nature for a far different life to what she must needs lead as his daughter, just as--" and stooping to kiss his wife hastily, he went on; "There, Guinevere, can you picture yourself in a few years' time the proud mother of a graceful and accomplished daughter, such as we might make of Little Miss Primrose? You would find endless joy and amusement, I trow, in training and educating the child!" "Tell me what she is like," said his wife in a low voice, and without raising her eyes. "She is verily as fair and sweet as the flower whose name she bears," answered the earl, "as sweet a budding primrose as could ever have been a true daughter of the Bryn Afons! Glorious deep eyes, Guinevere, of blue-grey hue, fringed with the longest and darkest lashes you e'er beheld, and then, in marked contrast, a glittering shower of thick golden curls, falling around the purest of childlike faces! Beshrew me, if I think not that our faithful Jack's 'distant relative' hath surely mated with some faithless scion of a noble race! Think you not I have drawn a glowing picture?" Lady Bryn Afon raised her dark eyes to her husband's face, and as she gazed with a strangely wistful intentness into his, large tears gathered in her own, and fell slowly down upon her clasped white hands. "Think you truly then, Morveth," she asked bitterly, "that our miserable house is a fit dwelling for so fair a flower as you describe? Would you cloud such a bright young life with the heavy shadow of the curse? Morveth, tempt me not with dreams which you know are vain! Tell me--I wish not to reproach my husband--but tell me, are you fit to be guardian to a beautiful innocent child? Is my life one that can be spent in constant devotion to the education and careful rearing of a loved daughter?" The earl covered his face for a moment with his hands, then rose abruptly.