'I'm extremely sorry to trouble you, but the storm is too much for this helpless little creature.' 'You yourself are wet through,' I interrupted. 'That doesn't matter,' he answered,--'for me nothing matters. Thank you a thousand times! Good-night!' The rain was coming down faster than ever and I stepped back into the shed, covering the child up so that the drifting wet should not beat upon it. He came after me and kissed it again, saying 'Good-night, poor little innocent, good-night!' three or four times. Then he went off quickly and sprang into his saddle and in the blur of rain I saw horse and man turn away. He waved his hand once and his handsome pale face gleamed upon me like that of a ghost in the storm. 'Till to-morrow!' he called, and was gone. I took the child into the house and called Priscilla. She was always a rough one as you know, even in her younger days, and she at once laid her tongue to with a will and as far as she dared called me a fool for my pains. And so I was, for when I came to think of it the man was a stranger to me, and I had never asked him his name. It was just his handsome face and the way he had with him that had thrown me off my guard as it were; so I stood and looked silly enough, I suppose, while Priscilla fussed about with the baby, for it had wakened and was crying. Well!"--and Jocelyn heaved a short sigh--"That's about all! We never saw the man again, and the child was never claimed; but every six months I received a couple of bank-notes in an envelope bearing a different postmark each time, with the words: 'For Innocent' written inside--" She uttered a quick, almost terrified exclamation, and drew her hand away from his. "Every six months for a steady twelve years on end," he went on,--"then the money suddenly stopped. Now you understand, don't you? YOU were the babe that was left with me that stormy night; and you've been with me ever since. But you're not MY child. I don't know whose child you are!" He stopped, looking at her. She had risen from her seat beside him and was standing up. She was trembling violently, and her face seemed changed from the round and mobile softness of youth to the worn pallor and thinness of age. Her eyes were luminous with a hard and feverish brilliancy. "You--you don't know whose child I am!" she repeated,--"I am not yours--and you don't know--you don't know who I belong to! Oh, it hurts me!--it hurts me, Dad! I can't realise it! I thought you were my own dear father!--and I loved you!--oh, how much I loved you!--yet you have deceived me all along!" "I haven't deceived you," he answered, impatiently. "I've done all for the best--I meant to tell you when you married Robin--" A flush of indignation flew over her cheeks. "Marry Robin!" she exclaimed--"How could I marry Robin? I'm nothing! I'm nobody! I have not even a name!" She covered her face with her hands and an uncontrollable sob broke from her. "Not even a name!" she murmured--"Not even a name!"