'Yes; I will tell you my story,' she answered. But there was a bitterness of antagonism in her tone as she said this. 'I have always been afraid of you, Captain Burnett; I felt you disliked and mistrusted me, and I have never been easy with you. If it were not for Kester, and your kindness to him, I should be horribly afraid of you. But for Kester's sake you would not be hard on his mother.' 'I would not be hard on any woman,' he answered quietly. 'It is true I have mistrusted you. I told you so yesterday. But if you will confide in me, you shall not repent your confidence.' 'You mean you will not be my enemy.' 'I am no woman's enemy,' he said a little proudly. 'I wish someone else had been in my place yesterday; you can understand it is not a pleasant business to ask these questions of a lady; but there are many interests involved, and I am like a son to Dr. Ross. I am bound to look into this matter more closely for his sake, and----' he paused, and, if possible, Mrs. Blake turned a little pale. 'Let me tell you quickly,' she said. 'Perhaps, after all, you will not blame me, and you will help me to keep it from Cyril.' And here she looked at him imploringly, and he could see the muscles of her face quivering. 'No, I never loved Mat. I felt it was a condescension on my part to marry him. My people were well connected. One of my uncles was a dean, and another was a barrister. My father was a clergyman.' 'What was his name?' 'Stephen Carrick. He was Vicar of Bardley.' 'I have heard of Dean Carrick; he wrote some book or other, and came into some notoriety before his death. Is it possible that you are his niece?' 'Yes. I was very proud of him, and of my other uncle; but they would have nothing to do with me after my marriage. We were living in Ireland then, and when Mat brought me to London I seemed to have cut myself adrift from all my people. My father died not long afterwards, and my mother followed him, and my two brothers were at sea. I saw the name of Carrick in the papers one day--James Carrick--he was in the navy; so it must have been Jem. Well, he is dead, and, as far as I know, Charlie may be dead too.' She spoke with a degree of hardness that astonished him, but he would not interrupt her by a question. He saw that, for some reason of her own, she was willing to tell her story. 'I soon found out my mistake when Mat brought me to London. From the first we were unfortunate; we had neither of us any experience. Our first landlady cheated us, and our lodgings were far too expensive for our means--my money had not then come to me. At my mother's death I was more independent.