"I say so. You have done your duty--more than your duty--I must do mine. My uncle, on his deathbed, bequeathed his daughter to my charge." "To yours?" "To mine," said Stephen, gravely. "Where is your authority?" "That I do not come without authority is proven by the mere fact of my presence here and by my knowledge of my uncle's secret. No one but yourself, your wife and I know of the real identity of this girl. It was my uncle's wish that the story of her birth should still remain a secret--that it should be buried, as it were, in his grave. Why should the poor girl ever learn the truth, when such knowledge can only bring her shame and mortification?" "Grant that," said Gideon, "where could she better be hidden than here? Her secret, her very existence, have been concealed from the world." "True, but--but the future, my dear sir--the future! You are not a young man----" "I am still young enough to protect her." "My dear Mr. Rolfe, you may live--you look as if you would--to be a hundred; you have discharged your self-imposed task most nobly, but you must not forget that it has now devolved upon one who is bound by ties of blood to fulfill it, if not so well, certainly with the best intentions. Mr. Rolfe, I am the young girl's cousin." "You speak of ties of blood; say rather, the ties of shame! Suppose--I say suppose--that I refuse to deliver her up to your care?" "I do not think you will do that. You forget that, after all, we have little choice in the matter." Gideon Rolfe eyed him questioningly. "The young girl is now of age, and----" "Go on." "And supposing that you were to refuse to hand her over to my charge, I should feel compelled to tell the story of her life, and----. Pray--pray be calm. I beg you to remember that I am not here of my own desire; that I am merely fulfilling my duty to my uncle, and endeavoring to obey his last wishes. I do not blame you for your reluctance to part with her. It does you credit, my dear Mr. Rolfe--infinite credit. But duty--duty; we must all do our duty." "Has anyone of your name ever yet done his duty?" repeated Gideon, sternly. "For my part, Mr. Rolfe, I have always striven to do mine; yea, even in the face of great temptation and difficulties. I must do it now. After all, why should you resist my uncle's wish? Consider, she, who was once a child, is now a woman. Do you think it possible to keep her imprisoned in this wood for the whole of her days?" Gideon Rolfe turned toward the window. For the first time Stephen had found a weak spot in his armor. It was true! Already she was beginning to pine and hunger for the world. Could he keep her much longer? "Come," said Stephen, quick to see the impression he had made. "Do not let us be selfish; let us think of her welfare, as well as our own wishes. Candidly, I must confess that I should be perfectly willing to leave her in her present obscurity." Gideon Rolfe broke in abruptly. "Where will you take her?" he asked, hoarsely.