With a sudden impulsive movement she knelt down in front of him like a child about to say its prayers. "Oh, help me, Dad!" she said, piteously--"Comfort me! Say something--anything! I feel so lost--so astray! All my life seems gone!--I can't realise it! Yes, I know! You have been very kind,--all kindness, just as if I had been your own little girl. Oh, why did you tell me I was your own?--I was so proud to be your daughter--and now--it's so hard--so hard! Only a few moments ago I was a happy girl with a loving father as I thought--now I know I'm only a poor nameless creature,--deserted by my parents and left on your hands. Oh, Dad dear! I've given you years of trouble!--I hope I've been good to you! It's not my fault that I am what I am!" He laid his wrinkled hand on her bowed head. "Dear child, of course it's not your fault! That's what I've said all along. You're innocent, like your name,--and you've been a blessing to me all your days,--the farm has been brighter for your living on it,--so you've no cause to worry me or yourself about what's past long ago and can't be helped. No one knows your story but Priscilla,--no one need ever know." She sprang up from her kneeling attitude. "Priscilla!" she echoed--"She knew, and she never said a word!" "If she had, she'd have got the sack," answered Jocelyn, bluntly. "You were brought up always as MY child." He broke off, startled by the tragic intensity of her look. "I want to know how that was," she said, slowly. "You told me my mother died when I was born." He avoided her eyes. "Well, that was true, or so I suppose," he said. "The man who brought you said you were motherless. But I--I have never married." "Then how could you tell Robin--and everyone else about here that I was your daughter?" He grew suddenly angry. "Child, don't stare at me like that!" he exclaimed, with all an old man's petulance. "It doesn't matter what I said--I had to let the neighbours think you were mine--" A light flashed in upon her, and she gave vent to a shuddering cry. "Dad! Oh, Dad!" Gripping both arms of his chair he raised himself into an upright posture. "What now?" he demanded, almost fiercely--"What trouble are you going to make of it?" "Oh, if it were only trouble," she exclaimed, forlornly. "It's far worse! You've branded me with shame! Oh, I understand now! I understand at last why the girls about here never make friends with me! I understand why Robin seems to pity me so much! Oh, how shall I ever look people in the face again!" His fuzzy brows met in a heavy frown.