‘Of course. Neither Michael nor myself asked any questions; our duty was plain, and it was one of love besides for me. All I know is what Annie herself told me, and that was not much. The corporal, it seems, belonged really to a higher station in life. He had quarrelled with his friends and left his home, and wanted never to see or hear of them again. But when Annie’s child was born--’ ‘He had married her?’ ‘Annie would not acknowledge it; although her silence told only against her own sweet name. She wore a ring, but so may any one; and as to all other proofs she obstinately refused to speak. I pointed out the hardship to her boy. She admitted that, but said she had promised and could not break her word. So I did not worry her, but left her to speak in her own good time. That time never came. Before Annie had been back a week I saw she was not long for this world. She pined and pined. She looked eagerly for news from abroad, but none came from where she sought it, and the disappointment helped the disease in bringing on the end. ‘On her death-bed I swore to be a mother to her boy--’ ‘To me?’ said Herbert, no longer in doubt; and as she nodded assent, he took her hard hand and kissed it again and again. ‘And nobly you have fulfilled your oath.’ ‘I did my best, Herbert. But I have more to tell you. Your mother, just before she died, gave me a letter. It was from your father to his friends, and was only to be sent to them at Annie’s death, or if she was in dire distress. The letter was addressed to Lady Farrington of Farrington Hall. It was not sealed, and I thought I might read what was inside. There were only a few words: “From Herbert to his mother--Be kinder to my boy.” I added a few of your bright curls, Herbert, and sent the letter on at once. But I gave no clue as to where it had come from. I wanted no answer. I was resolved to take no help from any one in doing my duty by you. I hated the whole of the Farringtons. I so hated the name of Herbert even, that we called you Hercules Albert instead. ‘Later on I lost Michael, my first husband; and I could not bear to remain in Newark alone. I sold up the shop and my belongings, and moved to York. It was there, as Mrs. Conlan, a widow, with one boy--you, Herbert--I met the Sergeant. Things were not prospering with me. I married him gladly, and he has been a thorough good man to me.’ Herbert’s heart was too full for him to speak for some time. Anger, disappointment, anguish--all three feelings possessed him. He was angry with his father, sore at heart for his mother’s sorrow, disappointed that there was no more to tell him. ‘Do you think there was a marriage, mother?’ ‘I do. I always did.’ ‘It all turns upon that. I may have Farrington blood in me; but whether or no would matter little if I was not entitled to bear the name.’