She had kept the young man with her until Lady Randal returned from Paris, when he insisted upon returning to his old quarters until his existence should be made known to his brother; and this meeting with Sir Charles had caused him many sleepless nights and much anxious thought. He had hesitated now with an undefinable dread at his heart about making his appearance, but, after a second thought, he had yielded to Lady Ruxley’s command, feeling that it would be better for all parties to have the matter settled for all time. She had learned to love the quiet, gentle young man during the short time he had been with her; he was so attentive and entertaining that he made her forget her bodily ailments, while he shamed her by his own patience and submission into repressing her fretfulness and grumbling. She seemed to have grown younger since she had had this new object in life to interest her, and she now entered the room in a brisk, decided manner, her wrinkled face all alive, and her keen eyes on the alert to watch and read every movement and expression. Lady Randal started up wildly as they entered. “How came you here—what right have you to come here?” she demanded, almost fiercely. “The right of a free man, mother,” was his quick but firm reply. “Ha!” exclaimed Lady Ruxley, bitterly. “I suppose you did not fill up the measure of your wickedness in your youth, Helen, and so you must needs hide this innocent child, denying him all love and care, and his rightful place in his own home.” “Spare me now, aunt—I suffer enough,” groaned the unhappy woman, who had sunk back trembling again at her son’s reply. “Spare you? Whom have you ever spared, I should like to know, if they happened to obstruct your path? Look back over your past life, think of your victims, and repent before it is too late. I only regret that I did not know of this wrong earlier; it should have been righted long ago, I promise you. Charles,” and she turned suddenly upon him, searching his face eagerly with her keen gray eyes, “this is your brother!” The moment the door had opened, and his eyes had fallen upon his crippled brother, Sir Charles had stood as one transfixed. The hideous deformity had been the first thing to attract his attention, of course. That misplaced head, the misshapen shoulders, the withered, helpless hand, the twisted leg and foot had struck a terrible feeling in his heart. Then his eyes had sought the sad, pale face with an eager, searching gaze, as if seeking to know something of the soul within that distorted body. At once he marked the grandly shaped head, with its broad, square forehead, which looked almost majestic beneath the crown of snowy hair. He marked the delicate, refined features, the deep, true, blue eyes, with their dark, sweeping lashes, the sensitive, expressive mouth, and the firm, decided chin.