The expression of the Duchess as she looked on and heard was a changing one because her mind included so many aspects of the singular situation. She had thought it not unlikely that he would do something unusual. Could anything much more unusual have been provided than that a man, who had absolute splendour of rank and wealth to offer, should for strange reasons of his own use the tact of courts and the fine astuteness of diplomatists in preparing the way to offer marriage to a penniless, friendless and disgraced young "companion" in what is known as "trouble"? It was because he was himself that he understood what he was dealing with--that splendour and safety would hold no lure, that protection from disgrace counted as nothing, that only one thing had existence and meaning for her. And even as this passed through her mind, Robin's answer repeated it. "I will do it whether it is difficult or not," she said, "but--" she actually got up from her ottoman with a quiet soft movement and stood before them--not a defiant young figure, only simple and elementally sweet-- "I am not ashamed," she said. "I am not ashamed and _I_ do not matter at all." There was that instant written upon Coombe's face--so far at least as his old friend was concerned--his response to the significance of this. It was the elemental thing which that which moved him required; it was what the generations and centuries of the house of Coombe required--a primitive creature unashamed and with no cowardice or weak vanity lurking in its being. The Duchess recognised it in the brief moment of almost breathless silence which followed. "You are very splendid, child," he said after it, "though you are not at all conscious of it." "Sit down again." The Duchess put out a hand which drew Robin still nearer to her. "Explain to her now," she said. Robin's light soft body rested against her when it obeyed. It responded to more than the mere touch of her hand; its yielding was to something which promised kindness and even comfort--that something which Dowie and Mademoiselle had given in those days which now seemed to have belonged to another world. But though she leaned against the Duchess' knee she still lifted her eyes to Lord Coombe. "This is what I must ask you to listen to," he said. "We believe what you have told us but we know that no one else will--without legal proof. We also know that some form may have been neglected because all was done in haste and ignorance of formalities. You can give no clue--the ordinary methods of investigation are in confusion as the whole country is. This is what remains for us to face. _You_ are not ashamed, but if you cannot prove legal marriage Donal's son will know bitter humiliation; he will be robbed of all he should possess--his life will be ruined. Do you understand?"