He knew that his wife’s heart was yearning after her child; at the same time, he could understand and appreciate Mr. Huntress’ sensitiveness upon the subject; while, too, the young girl could not fail to be painfully shocked upon learning the sad, even cruel, history connected with her birth. “I think it would be a great disappointment to my wife not to be allowed to claim the relationship,” he replied, thoughtfully. “I have no doubt of it, sir,” returned Mr. Huntress; “but could she not better bear the disappointment than to have her child made unhappy, after all these years of content, by learning that those who have hitherto occupied the place of father and mother are nothing to her by the ties of blood? She has not a suspicion of the truth, and I am confident that no one, save Doctor Turner and ourselves, has the slightest knowledge of it, so that it never need be revealed. Mrs. Mapleson promised solemnly never to claim her, under any circumstances; she gave her unreservedly to us, and I cannot feel willing to have our relations disturbed. As far as any property which she might inherit from your wife is concerned, I would not give it a moment’s consideration. I have an abundance, and Gladys will have it all by and by. I did intend to make a division between my two children,” turning with a smile to the young man by his side, “but since Geoffrey is now so rich, he will not need it. However, it will amount to about the same thing in the end, as they will soon have all things in common, I trust.” “Ah! is that so?” Colonel Mapleson inquired, with a brilliant smile and a nod at his son. “I hope so,” Geoffrey answered; “and I, too, think it would be wiser to keep the truth regarding Gladys’ birth still a secret. Its revelation can do no one, save Mrs. Mapleson, the least possible good, and I doubt if even she would not regret a disclosure that would result in so much unhappiness to others.” “I believe you are right,” Colonel Mapleson said, after thinking it over for a few moments. “I reckon it _would_ be the better plan to allow things to remain just as they are.” “I beg you will not consider me selfish or unfeeling in this matter,” said Mr. Huntress, earnestly, but greatly relieved by this decision. “I sympathize deeply with Mrs. Mapleson, but I feel that she could not suffer a tithe of what my wife and daughter would endure to have their relations disturbed, not to mention my own feelings in the matter.” “I understand,” his host responded, heartily, “and I know it is but right and just that the one should yield in order that the many may be happy, and I believe that my wife will see it in the same light when she comes to consider it. But,” turning again to Geoffrey, “when is this wedding to occur?” The young man colored and glanced at Mr. Huntress, for he hardly knew what to say in reply to this. “Well, I—the day is not set yet. I was anxious to have my relations with yourself settled, and—we——”