He drew a chair near his guests, and began at once to enter more into the details of the past. He gave them a full history of his eccentric relative, Robert Dale; told of his long-concealed fortune, when and how it had been discovered, together with the will which bequeathed the whole of it to Geoffrey’s mother. “This, of course, now becomes yours,” he concluded, turning to the young man, with a smile. “Quite a fine property, it is, too, amounting, with the accumulated interest, to upward of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Besides this, you will inherit one-half of what I possess, the other half going to Everet.” “I could not take anything from this estate, sir,” Geoffrey said, suddenly growing crimson. “Why not?” questioned his father. “Because you married contrary to the conditions of your uncle’s will, so, in that case, I do not feel that I have any real right to any of it. If your marriage had been discovered, you would have had to forfeit all to your cousin, Miss Everet.” “You are very conscientious,” replied Colonel Mapleson, gravely. Then he suddenly looked up, with a wise smile. “It has not occurred to you, I perceive,” he added, “that you could claim every dollar that Mrs. Mapleson and I possess. We both violated the conditions of that will; consequently, our fortunes rightly belonged to Robert Dale, and you, being his only heir, would inherit it all.” Geoffrey looked amazed at this. Such a thought had not occurred to him; but now he could not fail to see the force of his father’s argument. “I do not want it—I could not take it; I shall have more than enough from what will come to me from my mother,” he said. “There are few people in the world who would not take all they could get,” replied Colonel Mapleson, feeling a certain pride in this noble renunciation of his son. “But, taking everything into consideration, it seems to me that matters are somewhat complicated with us. I suppose Mrs. Mapleson’s daughter—your adopted child, Mr. Huntress—will come in for her share of her mother’s property.” August Huntress flushed. A painful struggle had been going on in his mind ever since his meeting with Mrs. Mapleson. He could not endure, for a moment, the thought of ever having Gladys know anything about her birth. She fully believed herself to be Mr. and Mrs. Huntress’ own child, and he knew it would be a rude shock to her to learn that she was not, and to be told the facts regarding her parentage, and he meant to prevent it if he could. “Colonel Mapleson,” he said, speaking very seriously, “I hope that Gladys will never learn that she is not really my child; I never wish her to receive anything from Mrs. Mapleson.” The colonel’s face fell.