'Has he told you yet who writes his stories for him? Eh? Has he told you that?' The lady bent forward and lowered her voice, and spoke earnestly. 'Has he told you?' 'I assure you that he has told me nothing--and----' 'That is in reality what I came about. Because, my dear, there must be a little plain speaking.' 'Oh! but let me speak--I----' 'When I have said what I came to say'--Lady Frances motioned with her hand gently but with authority--'then you shall have your turn. Men are so foolish that they tell their sweethearts everything. The chief reason why they fall in love, I believe, is a burning desire to have somebody to whom they can tell everything. I know a man who drove his wife mad by constantly telling her all his difficulties. He was always swimming in difficulties. Well, Alec is bound to tell you before long, even if he has not told you yet, which I can hardly believe. Now, my dear child, it matters very little to him if all the world knew the truth. All the world, to be sure, credits him with those stories, though he has been very careful not to claim them. He knows better. I say to such a clever man as Alec a few stories, more or less, matter nothing. But it matters a great deal to me'--what was this person talking about?--'because, you see, if it were to come out that I had been putting together old family scandals and forgotten stories, and sending them to the papers--there would be--there would be--Heaven knows what there would be! Yes, my dear--you can tell Alec that you know--I am the person who has written those stories. I wrote them, every one. They are all family stories--every good old family has got thousands of stories, and I have been collecting them--some of my own people, some of my husband's, and some of other people--and writing them down, changing names, and scenes, and dates, so that they should not be identified except by the few who knew them.' Armorel made no further attempt to stem the tide of communication. 'I have come to make you understand clearly, young lady, that it is not his secret alone, but mine. You would do him a little harm, perhaps--I don't know--by letting it out, but you would do me an infinity of harm. I write them down, you see, and I take them to Alec, and he alters them--puts the style right--or says he does--though I never see any difference in them when they come out in the paper. And everybody who knows the story asks how in the name of wonder he got it.' 'Oh! But I do assure you that I know nothing at all of this.'