"Upon my word," he said, sarcastically, "you will give this lady--whose name I haven't the pleasure of knowing--a very fine idea of our domestic relations. I am not such a brute, I hope, as to drive away my own child from my door; but I certainly should like to know first whether it is my child; and more particularly whether it is my son and heir, as I have no doubt that this young gentleman is endeavoring to persuade you. Did _you_ bring the child here?" he said, turning sharply to Janetta. "I brought him into the house, certainly," she said, rising from her knees and facing him. "I found him outside your fence; and he told me that his name was Julian Wyvis Brand." "Pretty evidence," said Mr. Brand, very rudely, as Janetta thought. "Who can tell whether the child is not some beggar's brat that has nothing to do with me?" "Don't you know your own little boy when you see him?" Janetta demanded, indignantly. "Not I. I have not set eyes on him since he was a baby. Turn round, youngster, and let me have a look at you." The child faced him instantly, much as Janetta herself had done. There was a fearless look in the baby face, an innocent, guileless courage in the large dark eyes, which must surely, thought Janetta, touch a father's heart. But Wyvis Brand looked as if it would take a great deal to move him. "Where do you come from?" said Mr. Brand, sternly. "From over the sea." "That's no answer. Where from?--what place?" The boy looked at him without answering. "Are you dumb?" said Wyvis Brand, harshly. "Or have you not been taught what to say to that question? Where do you come from, I say?" Mrs. Brand murmured an inarticulate remonstrance; Janetta's eyes flashed an indignant protest. Both women thought that the boy would be dismayed and frightened. But he, standing steady and erect, did not flinch. His color rose and his hands clenched themselves at his side, but he did not take his eyes from his father's face as he replied. "I come with mammy from Paris." "And pray where is your mother?" "Gone back again. She told me to find my father. Are you my father?" said the child, with the utmost fearlessness. "What is your name?" asked Wyvis, utterly disregarding the question. "Julian Wyvis Brand." "He's got the name pat enough," said Wyvis, with a sardonic laugh. "Well, where did you live in Paris? What sort of a house had you?" "It was near the church," said the little boy, gravely. "The church with the big pillars round it. There was a bonnet shop under our rooms, and the rooms were all pink and white and gold--prettier than this," he said, wistfully surveying the gloomy room in which he stood. "And who took care of you when your mother was out?" asked Mr. Brand. Even Janetta could see, by the swift, subtle change that had passed over his face, that he recognized the description of the room. "Susan. She was my nurse and mammy's maid as well. She was English." The man nodded and set his lips. "He knows what to say," he remarked.