"You know the fate of the Davidges: I need not go over the story. God knows it is not a pleasant subject for me to dwell upon. But for the last year I have had unmistakable proof that I have the hereditary disease. That is the reason why I have given up my business and every tie in life, and expatriated myself." As he spoke she rose, shaken with excitement; her face took on a new meaning; for the moment she was a young and beautiful woman: "Oh, Bruce! Bruce! you are all wrong! Is it possible that you have never been undeceived? There is not a drop of the Davidge blood in your veins!" "What do you mean?" "I have heard the story from my mother a hundred times. Your father was married twice--the first time in Maryland, where you were born. Your mother died at your birth. He came to Kent county and married Miss Davidge, who never had any children. It was the first symptom of her insanity that she conceived the idea that you were her own son, and your father willingly humored her in the belief. You were deceived too as a child, lest you might betray the real facts to her. But I thought when you were a man you would be told the truth." "How could I?" said Neckart, bewildered. "My father died when I was a boy of ten, and my mother--But she was not my mother!" His eyes filled: he turned hastily away. It seemed to him as if the dear old mother had just then died to him. Cornelia timidly touched his arm: "But you do not understand. You are not a Davidge. You are free from the Davidge disease." "Free?" It was not easy to turn back the convictions and terrors of a lifetime in a moment. He stared at her stunned: "Then these symptoms have been only caused by overwork, as the doctors said? I--I am like other men?" "Yes." "Merciful God!" Cornelia leaned over the taffrail. Would he come to her? The blood ebbed weakly in her veins; the rush of the water below roared like thunder; as the minutes passed a deadly sickness came into her breast. She looked to find him. He was at the other end of the deck, talking with the captain, his swarthy face glowing, his eyes like coals of fire. "The Russia is the first steamer to New York," she heard the captain say. "You can board her to-night. This is a very sudden resolution, Mr. Neckart?" "Yes. But I must return to my business at once. There are other matters too which--matters which I have neglected." "But your health? You mentioned a cerebral disorder which required rest?" "Oh, I am much better! The sea-voyage--I am another man, sir!" He walked down the deck, his back toward her. It was the heavy figure, the swinging awkward gait, which she remembered twenty years ago on the old farm-road. The world was born anew to him: health, work, chances--he had but to stretch out his hands and clutch them all again, and under all was the sweet triumphant passion. "Jane! Jane!" His eyes strained back over the long waste of water. But as for Cornelia, he had forgotten that she was in the world.