"Do not be frightened when I tell you that most people will _not_ believe what you say about your marriage," she said. "That is because it is too much like the stories other girls have told when they were in trouble. It is an easy story to tell when a man is dead. And in Donal's case so much is involved that the law would demand proofs which could not be denied. Donal not only owned the estate of Braemarnie, but he would have been the next Marquis of Coombe. You have not remembered this and--" more slowly and with a certain watchful care--"you have been too unhappy and ill--you have not had time to realise that if Donal has a son--" She heard Robin's caught breath. "What his father would have inherited he would inherit also. Braemarnie would be his and in his turn he would be the Marquis of Coombe. It is because of these important things that it would be said that it would be immensely to your interest to insist that you were married to Donal Muir and the law would not allow of any shade of doubt." "People would think I wanted the money and the castles--for myself?" Robin said blankly. "They would think that if you were a dishonest woman--you wanted all you could get. Even if you were not actually dishonest they would see you would want it for your son. You might think it ought to be his--whether his father had married you or not. Most women love their children." Robin sat very still. The stunned brain was slowly working for itself. "A child whose mother seems bad--is very lonely," she said. "It is not likely to have many friends." "It seems to belong to no one. It _must_ be unhappy. If--Donal's mother had not been married--even he would have been unhappy." No one made any reply. "If he had been poor it would have made it even worse. If he had belonged to nobody and had been poor too--! How could he have borne it!" Lord Coombe took the matter up gently, as it were removing it from the Duchess' hands. "But he had everything he wished for from his birth," he said. "He was always happy. I like to remember the look in his eyes. Thank God for it!" "That beautiful look!" she cried. "That beautiful laughing look--as if all the world were joyful!" "Thank God for it," Coombe said again. "I once knew a wretched village boy who had no legal father though his mother swore she had been married. His eyes looked like a hunted ferret's. It was through being shamed and flouted and bullied. The village lads used to shout 'Bastard' after him." It was then that the baying of the hounds suddenly seemed at hand. The large eyes quailed before the stark emptiness of the space they gazed into. "What shall I do--what shall I do?" Robin said and having said it she did not know that she turned to Lord Coombe. "You must try to do what we tell you to do--even if you do not wish to do it," he said. "It shall be made as little difficult for you as is possible."