The startled look on the other’s face was almost in itself an admission of the truth—Mrs. Darlington had been caught off her guard. But she made a desperate attempt to parry the question. “What makes you fancy such a thing?” she faltered. “Because there is certainty in my heart,” replied Merle bravely. “It came to me first when he bade me good-bye in the garden. And now I see it in your face.” The young girl dropped on her knees, and, an arm around her mother’s waist, gazed up imploringly. Eyes met eyes. Falsehood was impossible in either case. Mrs. Darlington stooped and folded the kneeling girl in a fond embrace. Both were weeping now. No word had been spoken, but Merle knew that she had correctly divined. It was a few minutes before there was sufficient self-control for the conversation to be resumed. But then, Merle still kneeling by her side, Mrs. Darlington spoke: “I had promised to keep this secret, dear,” she began, fondling the girl’s tresses. “But you have gained your knowledge apart from me, so I cannot be held to have betrayed my trust. Yes, Mr. Robles is your father—your loving and devoted father. Your real name is his—Merle Robles you should always have been called.” “And why not?” asked Merle. “Oh, I am proud and overjoyed to think of him as my father.” “Because he has some important reason to have the world think otherwise. I know you will believe me, dear Merle, when I say I do not know that reason. He is too grand and honorable a man for me to have ever pressed for an explanation. I just accepted you as a gift from his hands—his child and the child of my girlhood chum, named Merle, as you know, like yourself.” “So, if I have solved one mystery, there is still another mystery beyond,” murmured Merle. She rose, seated herself, and remained silent for a moment, her hands locked across her knees, her brows knit in thought. “But why distress your heart over unknown things?” said Mrs. Darlington. “As you have learned by your today’s experience, mysteries solve themselves in due time.” “Yes,” replied Merle, “but somehow I feel that this is the due time that I should know everything—for my dear father’s sake,” she added, “not for my own. Oh, mother, you should have seen his face of anguish just before he parted from me this afternoon. It was revealed to me only for an instant. But now I feel sure that something terrible is going to happen—to him.” She was sobbing again, as she flung her arms impulsively around Mrs. Darlington’s neck and sat in her lap, just as if once again she had become a little child. “Oh, mother mine—I shall always call you mother mine, for you have been a dear, sweet, kind mother to me ever since I can remember. But don’t you see that today I have also found a father whom I deeply love? Nothing must happen to him.” “Why should anything happen to him?” “I do not know. Where is Tia Teresa?”