"Father, tell me all about it," I pleaded. "Something terrible happened a long while ago, and that man who was there to-night knew about it. Am I not right? Tell me all about it; I am not afraid to hear." He shivered from head to foot, and his face looked ghastly cold. I reached out my hand for his coat, and made him put it on. "Hugh, my poor boy, I had meant to tell you this, but I never dreamt that this would come. I thought that I was safe here--away from every one." "Let me know it," I begged. "Ay, listen. When I was not much older than you are, I entered the army." I could not keep back the exclamation which rose to my lips. Had I not always thought that he had been a soldier? "At my first battle I unwisely deserted my post to save the life of the man whom we saw on Exmoor last night, and whose servant was at the meeting this evening. After the fighting was over I was charged with running away. I thought lightly of it, and appealed at once to the man whose life I had saved to come forward and clear me. He came forward with his servant, but, to my horror, they both deliberately perjured themselves. They swore that they had only seen me running away, and I was found guilty, guilty of cowardice--was cashiered, ruined disgraced for life, and, but for your mother, I should have killed myself." The tears were swimming in my eyes, and I tightened my grasp upon his arm. "Father, why did he do it?" He sprang to his feet, his eyes ablaze with fury and his voice shaking-- "That he might oust me from my home and my father's heart--the cur--and take my position. We were half-brothers, and I was the elder. My father loved me and cared little for Rupert. He was jealous,--ah! I can see it all now,--and seized this opportunity of ruining me and getting rid of me for ever. He succeeded. Every one believed me guilty. My father turned me out of the house, bade me change my name, and forget that I was a--one of a noble family. From, that day to this I have never looked upon his face or seen my old home. Your mother alone believed in me, refused to desert me, and, but for that, I must have died. Oh, God, it has been cruel!" He covered his face with his hands, and great sobs burst from him. My heart was beating with a passionate pity, but I could not tell how to comfort him. "Father, you know that I do not believe this thing," I cried. "Tell me the name of the man who has sworn to this wicked lie." "The same as your own and mine. Devereux. Rupert Devereux. Curse him! On his head be the sin of this thing, if sin there be! Good-bye, my boy; good-bye, Hugh!" He had made a sudden movement to the edge of the cliff, and it was only by a stupendous effort that I caught hold of him in time. "Father, what would you do?" I cried. "Are you mad?"