“Yes,” he said, sternly. “His memory must be awakened. He cannot stay here forever.” She seated herself at the window, while her father played an accompaniment, and sang in her matchless tones the scoffing words of Moore: “Away, away! You’re all the same-- A fluttering, smiling, jilting throng! Oh, by my soul, I burn with shame To think I’ve been your slave so long! “Slow to be warned, and quick to prove, From folly kind and cunning loth; Too cold for bliss, too weak for love, Yet feigning all that’s best in both. “Still panting o’er a crowd to reign, More joy it gives to woman’s breast To make ten frigid coxcombs vain Than one true manly lover blest! “Away, away! Your smile’s a curse! Oh, blot me from the race of men, Kind, pitying Heaven, by death, or worse, Before I love such things again!” Sir Harold listened with a smile on his face, and when the singer had finished he stepped toward the window, while Theresa watched like one who was fascinated. “To whom am I indebted for such sweet music?” asked the young man. Then he paused and bowed gallantly upon observing the figure of Theresa Hamilton, who was half-crouching behind her father. “This is my daughter, sir,” Mr. Hamilton said. “Do you mean to tell me that you do not remember her?” Sir Harold smiled. “If I have ever seen the lady before, the circumstance has quite escaped me,” he replied. “But I hardly think that I could forget any one so lovely.” A low moan of surprise and fear left Theresa’s pale lips, and her father looked on displeased. “Sir Harold Annesley,” he said, “I am placed in a desperate position, and I have none to advise me what is best to do. I hoped that you would be off my hands in a few days, and intended demanding that you keep my identity a secret. I think that you understand what I say, though your mind regarding all that is past has become a blank.” “Yes, I understand,” replied the young man, his admiring gaze fixed upon Theresa’s sweet face. “My child,” observed Hamilton, turning to her, “you had better leave us.” Then, as she began to move away, he added: “But, no. It is just as well that you hear. Sit beside me, Theresa.” The girl obeyed him, and he went on addressing Sir Harold. “I wish you to understand your position, sir. Are you not aware that you are a wealthy man, a famous man, whose unaccountable disappearance is the talk of all England?” “I am not aware of this,” smiled Sir Harold. “It may appear to be a terrible thing to you, but I am like a man who has just dropped into a half-familiar world from some mystery that he cannot fathom. My faculties are clear and my health and strength unimpaired. I do not know why I am famous, and I have no use for wealth. But tell me all of myself that you know. At present I am more amused than alarmed by whatever misfortune may have befallen me.”