"It is a lie!" he cried. "See for yourself," said Hugh Ritson; and taking three papers from his pocket, he threw them on to the table. They were the copies of certificates which Bonnithorne had given him. Paul glanced at them with vacant and wandering eyes, fell back in his chair, dropped his head on to the table, and groaned. "Oh, God! can this thing be?" "When your mother told you that you were an illegitimate son, she omitted to say by what father. That was natural in her, but cruel to you. I knew the truth from the first." "Then you are a scoundrel confessed!" cried Paul. Hugh rolled his head slightly, and made a poor pretense to smile. "I knew how she had passed from one man to another; I knew what her honor counted for. And yet I was silent--silent, though by silence I lost my birthright. Say, now, if you will, which of us--you or I--has been the true guardian of our mother's name?" Paul got up again, abject, crushed, trembling in every limb. "Man, man, don't gnaw my heart away! Unsay your words! Have pity on me, and confess that it is a lie--a black, foul lie! Think of the horror of it--only think of it, and have pity!" "It is true!" Then Paul fell on his knees and caught his brother by the arm. "Hugh, Hugh! my brother, confess it is false! Don't let my flesh consume away with horror! Don't let me envy the very dead who lie at peace in their graves! Pity her, if you have no pity left for me!" "I would save you from a terrible sin." Paul rose to his feet. "Now I know it is a lie!" he said, and all the abject submission of his bearing fell away in one instant. Hugh Ritson's face flushed. "There is that here," said Paul, throwing up his head and striking his breast, "that tells me it is false!" Hugh smiled coldly, and regained his self-possession. "My mother knew all. If Greta had been my half-sister, would she have stood by and witnessed our love?" Hugh waved his hand deprecatingly. "Your mother was as ignorant of the propinquity as you were. Robert Lowther was dead before she settled at Newlands. The survivors knew nothing of each other. The secret of that early and ill-fated marriage was buried with him." "Destiny itself would have prevented it, for destiny shapes its own ends, and shapes them for the best," said Paul. "Yes, destiny is shaping them now," said Hugh, "here, and in me. This is the point to which the pathways of your lives have tended. They meet here--and part." Paul's ashy face smiled.