"I think I lost a good deal more than myself and my name!" he went on. "I believe if I had stayed in England I should have won something of a reputation. But--you see, I really loved Maude--in a stupid man's way of love,--I didn't want to worry her or remind her of her phase of youthful madness with me--or cause scandal to her in any way--" "But did you ever think of the child?" interrupted Blythe, suddenly. Armitage looked up. "Think of it? Of course I did! The place where I left it was called Briar Farm,--a wonderful old sixteenth-century house--I made a drawing of it once when the apple-blossom was out--and the owner of it, known as Farmer Jocelyn, had a wonderful reputation in the neighbourhood for integrity and kindness. I left the child with him--one stormy night in autumn--saying I would come back for it--of course I never did--but for twelve years I sent money for it from different places in Europe--and before I left England I told Maude where it was, in case she ever wanted to see it--not that such an idea would ever occur to her! I thought the probabilities were that the farmer, having no children of his own, would be likely to adopt the one left on his hands, and that she would grow up a happy, healthy country lass, without a care, and marry some good, sound, simple rustic fellow. But you know everything, I suppose!--or so your looks imply. Is the child alive?" Lord Blythe held up his hand. "Now, Pierce, it is my turn," he said--"Your share in the story I already knew in part--but one thing you have not told me--one wrong you have not confessed." "Oh, there are a thousand wrongs I have committed," said Armitage, with a slight, weary gesture. "Life and love have both disappointed me--and I suppose when that sort of thing happens a man goes more or less to the dogs--" "Life and love have disappointed a good many folks," said Blythe--"Women perhaps more than men. And one woman especially, who hardly merited disappointment--one who loved you very truly, Pierce!--have you any idea who it is I mean?" Armitage moved restlessly,--a slight flush coloured his face. "You mean Lavinia Leigh?" he said--"Yes--I behaved like a cad. I know it! But--I could not help myself. Maude drew me on with her lovely eyes and smile! And to think she is dead!--all that beauty in the grave!--cold and mouldering!" He covered his eyes with one hand, and a visible tremor shook him. "Somehow I have always fancied her as young as ever and endowed with a sort of earthly immortality! She was so bright, so imperious, so queen-like! You ask me why I did not let you know I was living? Blythe, I would have died in very truth by my own hand rather than trouble her peace in her married life with you!" He paused--then glanced up at his friend, with the wan flicker of a smile--"And--do you know Lavinia Leigh?" "I do," answered Blythe--"I know and honour her! And--your daughter is with her now!" Armitage sprang up.